


Time of Need

by sunshine (sunshinepiveh)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bottom Kirk, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 33,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2491097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinepiveh/pseuds/sunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock's pon farr comes early due to the destruction of Vulcan. Nyota is unable to cope with the stark brutality she finds as reaility hits home. The captain will have to take necessary actions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nyota felt guilty for it, but she loved the changes in Spock since the destruction of his home world. It seemed like a terrible thing to think, to feel. But he was so beautiful now, even more so than before. He was sensitive, affectionate, tactile. She had loved him before when he'd been aloof and quite distant. God knows she's been accused of being “frigid” herself more than once. His cool demeanour was not antithetical to her own, and was not entirely unwelcome.

But she was human. And as much as she loved, no, _adored_ Spock, it was sometimes difficult to relate to him on a deeper level. She was content that they hadn't rushed into sex. She knew that she had a low libido. She'd even questioned in her younger years whether she was asexual, although she'd since come to realize she wasn't entirely so. It was part of what attracted her to the Vulcan. They were often said to be asexual themselves, although she knew better. Intellectually, sexually, and personally Spock was almost her mirror. 

No, it wasn't the lack of sex that bothered her. But it was the lack of physical sensation in general. For a Vulcan, any stray bush of hand on hand was the equivalent to kissing. For Nyota, hand-holding, or a gentle caress was well below a kiss. It was not even sexual at all. It was simply a physical manifestation of an emotional connection, one that she desperately wanted.

Spock tried, he really did. She had to give him credit. When they were alone, he would hold her hand. At his most amorous, he'd spend long minutes interlacing and pressing fingers in the elaborate dance of Vulcan kisses.

But Spock did not enjoy human style kisses. He found them awkward and unhygienic. He'd been a good sport, willing to try and practice off and on. But the entire experience had just been so off-putting for both parties involved that it had quickly desisted.

And Spock did not understand the concept of a cuddle. While watching movies together, Nyota would snuggle up to her Vulcan and press against his side, his arm around her. He tolerated it amicably. He adjusted his body to hers until they fit together efficiently. But he always felt somehow stiff to her, as if the entire procedure were a mystery to him and he derived no satisfaction.

At times she'd felt illogically lonely. There was no reason to feel lonely, she told herself. Spock was right there. He never denied her time when she asked for it. He tried to deny her nothing, truly. He was selfless. It was why she was so besotted with the man. In return, it was the least she could do to be accommodating for his own background. After all, she was a communications officer. She was supposed to be good with alien cultures.

 

However, that was Spock  _before_ the destruction of Vulcan. Now, he was something entirely different.

For the first few weeks, he was more distant than ever. She could hardly blame him. Aside from the trauma of the event itself was the tremendous falling out between Spock and his new captain. There was the debriefing, the memorial services, and the mad scramble to get everyone back into space and well on their way to a first official mission, before any of them had even had time to celebrate their sudden increase in status or to process the profound loss they'd all been through. Honestly, every single being on that ship was damaged in some way, but she supposed that was how it always was in times of war. They were soldiers. They would continue on.

It was about three weeks after the incident that Spock's behaviour changed.

First it was little things. He wanted to be with her in their off-hours time once again. She was delighted to be there for him. She was fully prepared to be his pillar of strength in his time of need. But he did not want to talk about what had happened, or his feelings, or any of that, as she had expected. Well, that was fine. She would at least  _be_ there for him.

And she  _was_ there for him. All of the time, it seemed.

The movie nights resumed and a much cuddlier Spock emerged. His fingers traced her arms idly, sending tingling kisses over her skin, and his body was relaxed and pliant in a way that it hadn't been before.

They began to share all of their meals together in the mess, next. This was great at first and a little disconcerting at points. One time when Sulu tried to join her for her lunch Spock had given him the meanest Vulcan Death Glare she'd ever seen. Was Spock jealous? He'd never seemed the possessive type before. Normally, Nyota would be a bit bothered by such behaviour in a partner, but with Spock she found the experience to be quite novel. It was that  _this_ person could be possessive toward her.  _Spock_ , for God's sake, who never showed a slip of emotion to anybody. She certainly wasn't going to discourage him.

She was  _shocked_ the first time he offered for her to stay the night in his room. They'd been lying on his bed watching another inane flick that she knew he had no real interest in, and when the movie was over she glanced at the time and saw how late it was. Well, that was her cue to be getting back. Spock never liked sharing a bed while he slept. He had tried in the early days, but he'd complained of a number of problems. Nyota moved in her sleep. He could not meditate properly with another being present. Nyota snored in her sleep (she doubted this accusation). Nyota dreamed, and if he touched her in their mutual sleep he may become disturbed by the transference. And so she'd stopped asking, and always went back to her own room to sleep. It wasn't a big deal really. Her grandparents had had separate bedrooms for as long as she'd known them, and they seemed to be perfectly happy together. Some couples just needed their own space. She got that. But  _now_ , suddenly Spock was suggesting she stay.

“Well, it's quite late. I should be getting back.” Nyota yawned emphatically, stretching her arms over head. She was glad at least that a starship was so small. When they'd begun dating at Starfleet she'd had a cold and uncomfortable night walk ahead of her. Now it was trivial to return home.

“That is unnecessary.” Spock answered. “Indeed, it would be illogical for you to return to your own room, given the hour. I would not be adverse to you spending your time here.”

Her eyes widened with shock. “Are you sure? I thought you didn't like me sleeping in the same bed as you.”

“I am quite certain. I find your company most pleasant as of late. Reassuring.”

Reassuring. Ah, so that was it. Nyota's expression softened. It all made sense to her now. She was an idiot.  _Of course_ Spock wanted her now. Almost everyone he'd ever known and love, everything he'd grown to know in life was  _gone_ . He was sure to be feeling uneasy and alone lately. She was honoured that he felt safe enough with her to allow her to be here for him now. 

“Of course I'll stay, Spock.” she smiled, giving his arm a squeeze. She pattered into his shared bathroom, checked that Kirk's door was firmly  _locked_ , and readied herself for bed. 


	2. Chapter 2

Jim stabbed his scrambled eggs threateningly with his fork and then shoved them in his scowling mouth. His petulant glare did not leave the other side of the room where Spock sat with Nyota.

“What's got you riled?” McCoy groused. “The eggs, the hob-goblin, or his girlfriend? Knowing you it might be all three.”

“Shut up, Bones.” Jim muttered. After another moment he couldn't contain himself. “Would you just look at them?” he asked with incredulous irritation.

Bones raised an eyebrow skeptically as he followed Jim's gaze across the room. “Never knew you to be one to begrudge someone their romance.” Across the room, Spock brushed the back of his hand against the back of Nyota's, not for the first time during the meal.

“Romance?!” Jim's voice raised to a whine. “More like smut. They're practically making out over there.”

“Good god, Jim, they're just holding hands. Not even. Now get your knickers out of a twist and eat your goddamned eggs.”

“Not making out.” Jim said flatly. “Right. He's  _Vulcan_ , Bones.  _I_ took classes on other cultures. I would have thought you'd have to, too, but who the hell knows what they're teaching you these days aside from Hypos 101.”

Bones gave a non-committal grunt. He did know that Vulcans kissed with their hands, and he recognized the gestures for what they were. And Jim was too much of a man-child for him to take any real offence to his insult. “Well, so they're making out. It's no more than you've done. And besides, you're always on my ass about cultural awareness. The hob-goblin's half human, dating a human, and is on a predominantly human ship. Maybe his PDA doesn't mean as much as you seem to want it to mean. Now stop watching your xeno-porn and eat the goddamned eggs before you mutilate them.” He took a swig of his coffee.

Frowning, Jim tore his gaze away from the scene and ate his eggs.


	3. Chapter 3

Things had been going well for Spock. Things had been going incredibly well, considering. That is, considering that his home world was destroyed, his mother was dead, his father was still not talking to him, an infuriating future self was gallivanting around his universe, and he was serving on a ship with someone he often wanted to throttle. Spock knew, logically, that he should be focused at least somewhat on these terrible,  _devastating_ things. But he could not seem to bring himself to focus on them for very long. He chalked it up (somewhat arrogantly) to his superior controls and the mental shields he'd strengthened in the week following The Day.

No, now his mind was on more pleasant activities. Activities shared with Nyota.

He'd always liked her. That is to say, he'd always admired her intelligence, her attention to detail, her seriousness. In many ways she was a reflection of himself. They were good together, in a way he had not thought he could be with a human. His own reticence when it came to sexual expression had been a source of some friction in past relationships he'd tried and failed to maintain. Until Nyota, no attempt had lasted very long. They were failed experiments, over before they'd barely begun, and he was not certain whether or not they should even be counted in his tally of “relationships”. But with Nyota, things were different. He attributed it mostly to her own cultural sensitivity.

After all, his mother had been human and his mother and father had found a way to make their relationship work. His own mother was instrumental in the development of the universal translator. She was a woman of great cultural versatility. And so he inferred that perhaps these same qualities of cultural sensitivity that were embodied within Nyota would be a strong foundation upon which to build a relationship. Thus far it was a success.

Yes, he'd always admired Nyota, but as of late he could not seem to spend enough time with her. He was not entirely certain why, but he did not give it much thought. What he  _did_ give thought, however, was the prospect of bonding. When he'd begun his relationship with her, he'd still  _technically_ been betrothed to T'Pring. He reasoned that if his status with Nyota were to one day become more serious, he would seek a dissolution of the bond he shared with T'Pring in order to bond with Nyota. But until such a time, he would simply not concern himself with a scenario that may never occur.

Now, with T'Pring  _gone_ , with  _everyone gone_ (Spock carefully did not think about The Day), it seemed only logical to seek out a new mate. And fortuitously, the  _perfect_ mate for himself was right here, already involved with him for nearly a year. Considering that he'd known T'Pring for three days before they'd been bonded at age seven, the nine months and seven days seemed almost a lifetime spent with Nyota. Their compatibility had been established, and there was nothing preventing them from joining now. 

He allowed himself to imagine what it must be like to share her mind. He'd withheld this interaction from her thus far. For a Vulcan, to meld minds was an intimacy on par with or of even greater significance than sexual intercourse. While bonded to another, in addition to sex, mind-melding was something he was unwilling to do. Such an act as sharing minds was reserved for family, bondmates, healers, and for times of great need. Nyota had fit none of these categories. But she  _could_ , he acknowledged. She could be his bondmate, if only he were to ask.

He wondered briefly whether it should be considered improper to ask for something so joyous after such a tragedy had taken place on T'Khasi. But wouldn't cementing a bond be the most  _logical_ thing to do? It would be a reaffirmation of life, and of his culture. Yes, sometime soon, when he was 100% certain of his decision, he would bring the matter to Nyota.

 

His mood while he thought these thoughts was so buoyed that he almost did not feel annoyance when his email blinked, indicating a message from his father. Communication with Sarek was almost uniformly bad news. Nevertheless, whatever he had to say would be said regardless of procrastination. Better to know now than later.  _Kaiidth_ .

What he read in that letter though _was_ enough to dash his good spirits. It was enough for the blood to drain out of his face as he sat at his science console on the bridge during alpha shift, reading his letter, and to fill his ears with a slight buzzing sound as the rest of the sounds around him faded away.

 

“Hey Spock, you okay?” the captain's irritating voice intruded upon his panic.

“I find myself feeling unwell, Captain.” he stated blankly. “With your permission, I shall see myself to sickbay.”

“Permission granted.” Jim answered with slight concern. Something was  _up_ with that Vulcan, but good luck finding out  _what_ . He'd never get it out of Spock, that's for sure. He'd have to interrogate Bones later, and see if he could blur the lines of doctor-patient confidentiality in the name of the captain knowing what the fuck was going on in his ship.


	4. Chapter 4

McCoy looked up from his desk and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head when the hob-goblin walked in to his office. Sickbay was quiet today, quiet for a while now really, and he was glad. It gave him time to catch up on his paperwork (and catch up on his private reading, if he were honest).

“Commander.” McCoy said, straightening in his chair. “What can I do for you?”

Spock, who rarely looked anything but perfectly blank, looked... well, downright  _cagey_ . He closed the door to the office and awkwardly sat himself on the edge of the opposing chair.

“Doctor, I may find myself in need of your services.”

McCoy waited for Spock to say more, but he was silent, his eyes downcast, as he tried to not fidget with his hands. What in the blue blazes was going on? “Alright.... Well, that's what I'm here for.” he prompted.

“How familiar are you with... Vulcan biology?”

Vulcan biolo -- McCoy's brain short circuited and his eyebrows rose. The only reason his mind went  _there_ was because of how damned awkward Spock was being at the moment. He struggled for professional control. “I studied Vulcan biology along with that of several other federation species during my time in medical school, Commander. I'm sure you know that.”

“Indeed.” Spock steeled himself. Enough beating around the bush. “What I mean to ask is, are you familiar with the concept of  _pon farr_ .”

Until the destruction of Vulcan, actually, McCoy had  _not_ been familiar with  _pon farr_ . It was only during his time back on Earth for the debriefings that some old and grizzled elder Vulcan cornered him alone and explained, discretely, the basics. This Selek had enforced the strictest confidentiality on the matter and had refused to properly explain  _why_ he was telling McCoy all of this (it was rather an awkward conversation, honestly), but Selek had supplied only that he knew that McCoy had a Vulcan on the Enterprise, and that with the destruction of his home planet, one could not be too careful in procuring all the help one could get. So officially, no, McCoy didn't know  _anything_ about any damned  _pon farr_ , because if he did, what remained of the Vulcan High Council would eviscerate him, and likely Selek as well for leaking the information. But for the purposes of this conversation with Spock, he knew. He wished he didn't know, but he knew. “Aw, hell....” he muttered, indicating his comprehension.

“Indeed.” Spock stated simply, relieved that  _that_ part of the conversation, at least, need not take place.

“Are you trying to tell me that you're --”

“I am uncertain.” Spock interrupted, regaining some of his composure. “I would like you to run some tests to confirm. However, I have just received communication from Ambassador Sarek indicating that a large number of my people have been thrown into premature  _pon farr_ due to the sudden severance of so many psychic ties. Our minds are not meant to be alone in such a way, Doctor. Although we may appear to be a quite solitary people, our contact is psychic rather than physical. The severance of so many mental bonds, not to mention those of ones  _mate_ , is difficult at best, and _... horrendous_ , at worst.” Spock fell silent.

McCoy felt his heart go out to the cold blooded elf in front of him. As much as Spock might get under his skin at times, McCoy was a healer, and he wouldn't wish this sort of suffering on anyone. He hadn't paused to consider for very long that Spock might be truly suffering in all of this. After all, he seemed so, well,  _happy_ with Nyota lately. But he could see now that there was a reticence about the Vulcan, as if lacking in true fulfilment.

“Alright. We'll get you sorted out, Spock.” he reassured, tricorder already in hand as he ran a variety of basic scans. Spock's hormone levels, as predicted, were completely erratic. He sighed heavily. He could draw blood and test more conclusively, but it would be a mere formality. He looked up to meet Spock's eyes, and their gaze shared understanding.

Spock nodded to himself. “So, it is as expected.”

“What do you need, Spock? I don't know a whole hell of a lot about this. Let's just say my source was a bit... sketchy on the details. You need a mate, don't you? What about Nyota? You two are together....”

Spock pressed his lips to a thin line. “Indeed. My concentration has not degraded to the point of me being a danger to myself or others. I will attempt to self monitor, but would appreciate an extra set of eyes, should my behaviour become... erratic.” Spock paused and drew a calming breath. He could speak of this. It was necessary. “When the time comes...”  _the plak tow_ ... “Nyota and I will need to be sequestered, preferably in my rooms, for three to ten days...”  _Three to ten -- he suppressed a shudder._ “That is,  _if_ she agrees to form a marriage bond with me.”

“A marriage bond?” McCoy interrupted.

“Yes, Doctor.”

“You mean like all that Vulcan mind voodoo? Aw, hell. I don't remember  _that_ little detail.” he grumbled, thinking dark thoughts at this “Selek”. 

“The bond, would in fact be permanent.”  _Perhaps an oversimplification, but essentially true, for the purposes of informing McCoy. “_ It would need to be filed with Starfleet as well as the Vulcan High Council. If she accepts, Nyota would become a citizen of New Vulcan, and as my bondmate would not be allowed to be separated from me.”

“Is this  _safe_ ?” McCoy burst out.

“It should be quite safe. However, I would ask that we divert our course to the New Vulcan colony in case Nyota should be in need of a the services of a Healer. Also, should Nyota refuse my betrothal, I  _will_ be in need of a Healer.” he emphasized.  _As I will be insane or dead...._ Spock tried not to think too hard on it.

“Alright. I'll need to inform the captain about some of this.” McCoy said a bit uneasily.

Spock did not sigh. “I had expected as much.” he said tonelessly. “Please use your own judgement and discretion in this matter, Doctor.”

McCoy nodded his agreement. He'd do his best to protect Spock's privacy and dignity in this. “Alright. Anything else I need to know?”

“The  _pon farr_ ... is a difficult time. It is a time with no logic, with primal urges which drive us.”

“ _I know all that_ .” Bones drawled testily.

Spock tried not to glare and continued on. “I am concerned for Nyota's health, during my Time. She will likely require your services by the end of it. She may sustain injuries, become dehydrated, malnourished....” Spock took a deep breath.

“Just what in the hell will you be  _doin'_ in there for ten days?” McCoy's eyebrows shot up.

“ _Mating_ , Doctor.” Spock said coldly, his eyes glittering and his whole body tense. “Not having sex, not making love, not even  _fucking_ . I will be  _mating_ , like an  _animal_ .” It was clear from his tone that he was disgusted by the notion. He could not fully suppress his own shudder at his own stark words. 

Bones' heart constricted a little to see this lapse in Vulcan control, as he began to fully comprehend the situation he was dealing with here. Spock was a ticking time bomb, and by the end of this ordeal someone was going to be hurt, somehow. There were so many unknowns. Well, he'd just have to be ready for anything.

Spock continued. “You will have to use your judgement, because my own will be compromised. However, know that removing my mate from my presence during my Time, or intruding upon my space, will be  _extremely_ dangerous for all involved. If her injuries are not life threatening, I beg you to consider carefully before intervening.”

Bones didn't like this, and he pursed his lips grimly as he nodded. “I understand, Commander. Will there be anything else?”

“No. Thank you for your time, Doctor. With your permission, I will return myself to the bridge for the duration of my shift, then proceed to discuss my condition with Nyota. If plans change significantly, I will be sure to inform you.”

“Fine by me. You're in no danger now. But I want to see you every morning before shift to check on these readings and to see you for myself. As soon as something is the least bit off, you're off duty. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Alright. Go on, get out of here.” he shooed Spock out of his office.

By the time Spock would get back to the bridge, the captain would already be on his own way down to sickbay, having been called down not-so-casually by his CMO. McCoy had some convoluted and delicate explaining to do, but he had to get this show on the road before it was too late.


	5. Chapter 5

“What is it, Bones? Something wrong with Spock?” Jim asked with slight concern. He and Spock might not have gotten off to the best start, but Spock was a good first officer / science officer, and a member of his crew. 

“Sit down, Jim. You're not gonna like this.” McCoy sighed heavily, his face somewhat grim.

Jim's concern ramped up a notch but he sat, jaw set and mind open. “Well, let's hear it.”

“First thing's first. You're gonna need to turn this boat around and set course for New Vulcan.”

Jim's eyes widened. “New Vulcan? What the hell's going on, Bones? What am I supposed to tell the admirals? ' _Hey, thanks for trusting me with a shiny new starship even though you hate me. I'm gonna go off and do what I want with it now..._ '”

“I'll declare this a medical emergency if I have to. I'll take care of the admirals. Hell, it might even  _be_ a medical emergency for all I know. Damned hob-goblins.” he grumbled.

“A medical emergency?” Jim's voice raised in volume and pitch. “What the hell's going on with Spock?”

“I can't tell you.”

“Like hell you can't tell me! Commander Spock is a member of  _my_ crew and is aboard  _my_ ship. I may or may not deserve it, but I  _am_ the captain and I damned well have a right to know why I'm flying halfway across the universe,  _against_ orders, and why my XO is having a 'medical emergency'.”

“Damnit Jim, if I could tell you the full details, don't you think I would?” McCoy snapped. “This goes  _beyond_ doctor-patient confidentiality. This is a matter of Vulcan secrecy and you'll excuse me if I don't want to get myself tangled in that political mess any more than I've already been dragged into it.”

Jim chewed his lip and was silent, considering. “Alright.” he finally said, and tapped the comm unit on the wall. “Kirk to bridge.”

“Bridge here.” Uhura answered.

“Chekov, Sulu, change course for New Vulcan.”

There was a brief pause. “New Vulcan, Sir?” Sulu queried uncertainly.

“Affirmative. Please make immediate changes.”

“Aye, Sir.” Sulu confirmed.

“Kirk out.”

Jim turned back around to regard McCoy. “So is that it, then? Is that the limit of the information you're willing to give me?”

McCoy took a deep breath, considering. “Whatever I tell you can  _not_ leave this room, got it?” Jim nodded curtly. “Commander Spock is experiencing a biological and telepathic phenomenon due to his Vulcan heritage. In the coming days, keep an eye on him. If you notice anything...  _off_ , any erratic or irregular behaviour, I want you to send him to sickbay immediately or contact me to come take a look at him. There will come a point when he'll need to be confined to his quarters.”

“Confined? Jesus, Bones.” Jim's confrontational demeanour dropped instantly and he sat down heavily back in his chair. “What the hell is going on? Is he losing his shit or something? Half the ship's got PTSD; I can't even imagine how this must be effecting him.”

Bones knew this wasn't a case of PTSD, but he figured it was a safe thing for Jim to assume. After all, Spock's  _pon farr_ had been induced by psychic trauma. It may as well be the Vulcan version of the disorder. “Spock's going to talk to Nyota tonight, as I understand it, but most likely once Spock's confined, Nyota's confined with him, for three to ten days, until this mess is sorted out. He says he needs her there to help him through it, and I believe him. He says they'll need privacy as well, and he has my agreement, but by the time this ordeal is over, one or both of them will probably require the services of a Vulcan mind-healer.”

“... hence we're setting course for New Vulcan.” Jim breathed tiredly, wiping his face and mussing his hair. “Well shit.”

“That's about the long and short of it.” McCoy agreed. Well shit, indeed.

 

Jim didn't like it, but he didn't have to like it. If Bones said it was a medical emergency, then it was a medical emergency. If Bones said it had to remain private then, well.... Well, he'd stare at Spock every ten minutes on the bridge for the rest of alpha shift, trying to catch a glimpse of this “erratic behaviour” he was supposed to be on the lookout for, and he'd use his own damned detective skills to figure out what the problem was if nobody here was going to tell him. Jim never really was good with leaving well enough alone.


	6. Chapter 6

“Spock!” Jim grinned as the face of the elder Vulcan flickered onto his screen.  _This_ Spock, he liked. He'd taken to calling him Nice Spock in his head, as opposed to the younger counterpart Bitchy Spock that served with him on the Enterprise. Bitchy Spock was loveable in his own way, Jim supposed, but he  _did_ try to strangle Jim, he  _did_ abandon him on an ice planet from hell, and he  _did_ try to get him thrown out of Starfleet. The least that sort of behaviour warranted was the title of Bitchy.

“Jim.” Spock's eyes softened at the sight of his young friend. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“What, can't a guy just call to say hello?” Jim hedged, grinning with his best charm.

Spock, of course, saw right through the bullshit. “Indeed, whatever the reason for your call, I am certain to count myself lucky for your company.”

Jim fought down a blush. In a way that no one else in Jim's life ever had managed to do, Elder Spock made him feel cherished. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Actually, uhm, I  _did_ sort of have a question.”

Spock smirked, just a slight twitch of the lips and eyes glittering with amusement. “Proceed.”

“Sooo... you've lost everyone you've ever known and loved, right? Did you go crazy and have to lock yourself in a room with someone for a week?”

Spock blinked. “... pardon?”

“Yeah, see, that's about the reaction I had too. I  _knew_ something was off about this.” he muttered in frustration.

“Would you care to explain more fully, Jim? I must confess that I do not quite follow.”

“Spock, that is  _my_ Spock, that is to say, not that he's  _mine_ , but you know, Bitchy Spock, the younger you, is supposedly sick. Only he doesn't  _look_ sick. He doesn't seem any different than he always does, as far as I can tell. He got kind of weird this morning on the bridge and went to sickbay. Now Bones has us turning the whole ship around to head toward New Vulcan, and he says Spock's got like Vulcan PTSD or something and is going crazy. And when he does he wants us to lock him in his room with Nyota. Oh, and for some reason they'll both need mind healers when they're done.” He sighed in exasperation, dropping his hands that had been gesticulating wildly with enthusiasm throughout his tirade.

“I... see.” Spock answered carefully. And the thing was, he did see, now that it had been explained to him like that. He wasn't exactly happy about what he was hearing, and he wasn't certain what actions to take. That his younger counterpart was being thrown into premature  _pon farr_ should not have been surprising. It was one of the most major problems the colony was dealing with at present, as those who had lost someone scrambled to find a new mate in time. It was organized chaos, and the High Council was desperate that news of the affliction not reach the outside world. Spock was more glad than ever that he'd taken the time to corner McCoy while on Earth and give him the basics in information. At the time, he hadn't thought the doctor would need such information for  _years_ yet. He had only hoped to help his counterpart avoid some of the needless drama that he himself had faced during his first Time. Now, it seemed, his advice had been all the more necessary.

The question was, what was he supposed to  _do_ ? Should he explain the situation to Jim? His  _katra_ called out that he should withhold nothing, from any Jim Kirk in the multiverse. However, his logical mind said otherwise. It was imperative that the pair find their own way. It seemed improper to meddle in their destinies. And yet if they were indeed  _t'hy'la_ , and Spock was planning to risk all of that to be with Uhura.... He sighed, uncertain as always about the ethics involved. Every decision he'd made since coming here threatened to be the worst decision he could possibly make.  _Kaiidth_ .

“You know something, don't you.” Jim said, his eyes taking in the other man with laser sharp focus.

“If you are on your way to New Vulcan, Jim, then you are doing the best thing.”

“I don't want to just do the best thing. I want to know what the hell's going on aboard my ship!” Jim's voice raised and he threw his arms out wildly in consternation. “Everybody but me knows what's going on and no one seems willing to tell me!”

“Jim, please calm yourself.” Spock said tiredly. He should not be doing this. He should not. But he was about to do this. “What my counterpart is suffering from is called  _pon farr_ . You must not mention that you have this information to anyone, for it is a tightly held secret of Vulcan society.” Jim instantly settled down and nodded seriously. Finally, he was getting somewhere.

“Beginning sometime in early adulthood, a Vulcan male will experience his first  _pon farr_ , and will repeat the event once every seven years for the duration of his lifetime. It is a call to mate, but unlike anything you have ever experienced. Logic fails completely. Our mind is chaos and the world becomes unknowable. All we can know is the desperate urge to mate, and nothing else. If we do not mate, we will lose our mind or die.  _This_ is the  _pon farr_ .”

“Die? You mean, Spock,  _my_ Spock is facing something life threatening?” he asked in alarm, his eyes darting instinctively to their shared bathroom.

“Indeed.” Spock answered gravely. “All Vulcan children at the age of seven are bonded with another that is deemed mentally compatible. This psychic link will call both parties to one another in the future at the time of the  _pon farr_ . However, it is likely that Spock, like many of my people, has lost his future mate with the destruction of his home world. This would be why Lieutenant Uhura is supposedly involved in the whole affair. If a Vulcan does not have a mate at the time of  _pon farr_ one must be chosen for him, for a full marriage bond  _will_ and  _must_ be formed by the completion of the mating cycle.”

“No shit.” Jim answered with wonder, somewhat stupefied by what he was hearing. This was some heavy stuff. “So... Spock and Uhura, finally tying the knot? During the honeymoon?” he grinned cheekily. He knew it was a life and death situation, but he  _couldn't_ quite help himself. Not when Nice Spock kept talking about 'mating'. “Wait so this means Spock was cheating on his fiance this whole time?”

Elder Spock's lips twitched with tightly controlled amusement. “It seems likely.”

“Huh....” Jim said wonderingly, astonished that Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass had it in him to be unfaithful.

“Indeed.” Spock interrupted. “Jim you must keep in mind however the gravity of the situation. My counterpart will be devastated by his affliction and humiliated should he know that outside parties are aware. Not only this, but a Vulcan in the fires of  _pon farr_ can become dangerous, unhinged, and with Vulcan strength on a human ship, it is a dangerous situation. One must not challenge him, intrude upon his sacred space, or be seen to be challenging his mate. This is of the utmost importance.” What he said was all true. What he  _hoped_ was that “his mate” would not necessarily read as Lieutenant Uhura, although he had no idea how that would take place. All he could do for his own part in this was give this Jim the information he was seeking and hope for the best.

“God it.” Jim answered. “No fighting the crazy, scary Vulcan. I think I figured that one out the hard way already.” he smirked sardonically. “Aren't you the one who sent me after an emotionally compromised  _you_ to get myself near choked to death on the bridge?”

“My apologies.” Spock laughed with his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You all keep saying that. Anyway, thanks for being up front with me, Spock.” he said warmly. “Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on things and handle the situation.”

“Of this I have no doubt.”

“I guess I'll talk to you later then -- got captainly things to do, and I'm sure you have a colony to build or something.”

“Indeed. Fare well, my friend.”


	7. Chapter 7

Nyota laid on her back, staring unseeingly at her ceiling as she reviewed the surreal conversation she'd just had with her boyfriend.

Spock could die.

That was the long and short of it then, wasn't it? Her mind spun over the same facts again and again. Several facts presented themselves to her. She did her best to order her mind and think this through rationally. That was the reason she was alone tonight in her own quarters, needing time away from Spock before she gave her final decision. Spock had understood. He would have done the same.

Fact 1: The new-found affection Nyota had been receiving from Spock these past weeks were caused by a psychic and biological imbalance within Spock called  _pon farr_ . That meant it was temporary -- it was not  _really_ Spock acting this way. She turned that over in her mind. If Spock wanted to bond with her, and bonds were permanent... then she would likely not see this behaviour in him for another seven years. That was a long time to wait for affection. Then again, she hadn't been completely dissatisfied with their relationship beforehand, either. Perhaps they could work on a compromise. She wondered briefly if liking something that had turned out to be so insidious made her a terrible person. She did feel some guilt at that. She didn't want Spock to be anyone other than who he was.

Fact 2: Spock was now in  _pon farr_ , and that was not going to go away until he mated and bonded with  _someone_ . He had made it clear that he preferred Nyota. If she refused, he had said he'd understand. He also beat around the bush about what would happen should she refuse. She'd found out that he'd either a) Mate with someone else, b) Lose his sanity, or c) Die. Those were a hell of a set of options.

It certainly hadn't been the most romantic proposal. She'd blurted as much in a brief fit of emotionalism, and Spock had conceded the point, even going so far as to express some remorse for the circumstances. That just made Nyota feel worse. After all, this terrible thing was  _happening to_ him; it wasn't  _being caused by_ him. He'd told her that he'd considered the bond before. He had listed numerous logical reasons why he considered them to be well matched. She couldn't fault his logic on that matter, at least. She shared many of the sentiments. It was part of what drew her to him. They were well matched in a number of respects. And more than that, she genuinely  _enjoyed_ his company. Spock was intelligent, witty, compassionate, and kind, and he wasn't exactly lacking in the looks department either. Logically, Nyota knew that any number of sentient beings would consider themselves lucky to be wed to one such as Spock. He was “a good catch”. 

But was that enough? Was she in love with him? Yes, she thought she was. She wouldn't have dated him for nine months if she weren't in love. But was it marriage-level love? In that, she wasn't so certain. She'd only just graduated. She was just beginning her career. On some level, she'd always assumed she would settle down to marriage one day as her parents had done. Hell, maybe she'd even have kids when the time felt right. But that was a long way away; it wasn't something she ever really spent time thinking about. Right now she just wanted her career. She wanted to build something of  _herself_ first. 

She posed a question to herself: Would bonding with Spock jeopardize her career goals? It was a tricky question. She'd posed it to him as well. Spock was adamant that it should not effect her in any way. He could not see the logic in it. But Nyota knew better. She knew that relationships among command crew were discouraged, even if they were technically allowed. She knew from Spock that Vulcan law would protect himself and his bondmate from any sort of official repercussions, and would prevent the two of them from becoming separated. However, she questioned how it might subtly effect promotions, how it might make her look. Spock was a senior officer. He'd been her instructor. What would that say about her reputation, let alone his? Would people take her accomplishments seriously if she had to live under his shadow? 

She chewed a nail thoughtfully and slowly kicked off her boots. She was becoming exhausted with this. With a sigh, she pulled herself off the bed and began preparing for rest. A shower would help ease both mind and body.

Her mind came back to the actual decision once again. If she didn't bond with Spock, he could die. Well, that was unacceptable. Loss of sanity, no matter his assurances of heading to New Vulcan for a mind healer, was also unacceptable. So what... their choice was for him to find someone else? That would end the relationship instantly. She acknowledged there would be no recovery for them as a couple after such an occurrence. And if she should abandon him in this... how could she even hope to remain friends? To force him at the last minute to bind himself permanently to a stranger? The thought of it made her feel physically ill.

No, this wasn't a simple pragmatic decision, as much as she wanted it to be. If there were no  _pon farr_ and Spock proposed to her, it would be simpler. They could sit together at a table and discuss the relative pros and cons of marriage, the timing of the event, the type of ceremony. They could debate name changes and take their time. But this wasn't that. This was Spock, the heart of her heart, and although she could not see the evidence she knew he was suffering, or would soon suffer. It was time for her to put aside selfish considerations, and to be there for him in his time of need. She'd often asked him what she could  _do_ for him: how she could change her mannerisms to respect his culture, his alien needs. Well, now he'd answered her. 

Nyota prided herself in being a strong woman. Now it was time for her to be strong for the both of them. She would bond. And she would be there for him for his week of  _mating_ as well. He'd described it to her in the vaguest terms, but she'd gotten the most relevant information. It wouldn't likely be pleasant for either party. It would be a constant madness that she would have to  _endure_ . Spock had assured her that certainly it was possible to endure as his mother had survived Sarek's  _pon farr_ s, although he did not have any useful details to quite understand how. He'd explained Vulcan possessiveness, how he would challenge those he saw as keeping him from his mate. He'd explained the violence that accompanied the madness, and had indicated she would need to remain “submissive” throughout the ordeal. She thought she had a pretty good idea what that meant. 

She had to admit to herself that the idea of it was distasteful. But she could do it. It wouldn't be the first time she'd fucked with someone without really enjoying herself. She could spread her legs and get it over with if it meant that the madness would leave him and he would make real love, true love to her afterwards. He'd assured her that he would, that he would do anything to ease the pains he would be sure to bring to her if she should be with him in this. She'd never seen him looking so lost, so desperate. However unpleasant the sex itself would be, she knew that he wasn't cruel or callous in this. Already he was full of remorse and regret for what his biology would do to him, what it would take from them both. She had to remind herself that they would both be victims in this, not just she alone.

Nyota crawled under her covers, clean and relaxed and dressed in her favourite flannels. She'd come to a decision. She would tell Spock in the morning over breakfast. For now, sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

It was happening. It was happening-it was happening-it was happening. Shit, shit, shit! Kirk's mind raced. Spock had been off duty for two days now. They were still at least a week outside of New Vulcan. Whatever medical mumbo-jumbo Bones had sent to Headquarters had done the trick and they were on an express route to New Vulcan, all other orders on hold until the general Spock situation was taken care of. But now, Bones had just commed the bridge and had indicated that Lieutenant Uhura was relieved of duty, and Kirk knew  _exactly_ what that meant. He wanted to pace. He wanted to check on Spock. He wanted to do  _something_ . But no one else was to know what was going on, so he calmly nodded to Uhura as she left the bridge, and sat in his command chair, trying to be a captain.

About three hours remained for his shift. He found himself gripping the armrests so tightly his knuckles were white, and forced himself to relax his hands. He fidgeted, crossing his legs and uncrossing them. He checked the time. Uhura had been gone for about 35 minutes. Was that long enough to... to  _mate_ ? He felt himself flush with embarrassment at the intrusive thought.  _Don't think about Spock and Uhura mating; that's an order, Mister!_ He chewed a thumb nail and glanced around the bridge. No one was watching him. Everyone was working quietly and efficiently, passing the time as they were wont to do as they hurtled through the great black of space. To them, the whole Spock-Uhura thing was a curiosity, something to puzzle over, but something to otherwise ignore while they got on with their jobs. If only they  _knew!_ Kirk was beside himself with worry.

“Sulu, you have the con.” He stood up briskly and headed for the turbolift to seek out Bones.

 

 

 

“How is he?” Jim questioned Bones as soon as his first toe was in the door.

McCoy jumped, nearly dropping the tray of instruments in his hand. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Don't sneak up on a man like that.” he grumbled.

“But, Spock, you talked to him right? Is he okay? That's why you called Uhura, right? Is she with him now? Where are they, Spock's rooms?”

“Would you slow down?” Bones groused. “The hob-goblin's hormones reached a certain agreed upon level and the Lieutenant was sent in to take care of the situation.  _As we agreed upon_ . Now, if you'll recall, we also agreed to leave the hob-goblin alone during his Time, so why don't you go do something captainly while I do something medical and we'll pretend that we're actually both adults working on an actual starship.”

“Sarcasm. Nice.” Jim grinned. He paced around Bones' office, generally poking at things he should leave well enough alone. Bones kept the corner of his eye on him as he continued to try and type into his padd. It was like watching a toddler sometimes, and they let this man captain a starship.

“So... did you get to see his erratic behaviour?” he quizzed.

“Jim --”

“Come onnnn, Bones. I didn't get to see it.” he whined. “Spock's so cagey and then he took himself off duty before I got to order him off. What's he like right now? Is he freaking out?” Kirk frowned at that. He didn't want Spock to be in any sort of distress, and he didn't really see Nyota as the comforting type. But then, Spock didn't need comfort right now, if Jim understood the situation correctly. He needed to fuck. And Nyota  _was_ pretty hot, so that shouldn't be an issue. But he also needed to  _marry_ her. In some weird vague telepathic way.  _That_ was disconcerting.

“Do you think it's started?”

“Do I think  _what's_ started?”

“You know...  _it_ ... whatever  _it_ is.” Jim dragged his finger along the desk, not looking McCoy in the eye.

“I'm not going to tell you any more about Spock's affliction if that's what you're trying to do.”

“Fine!” Jim glared at him menacingly, flatting his hand on the desk. “When are you going to check on them in there?” he asked more harshly than he'd intended.

“I'm monitoring their bio readings with sensors continuously. If something happens that I need to know about, I'll deal with it then.” Bones answered levelly. Then he softened slightly. “Look, Jim, I know you're worried about your crew. It's good. You're the captain; you  _should_ worry. But we know what this is and we have a plan of action. I'm the CMO; let me do my job.”

Jim sighed, some of the fight leaving him. “Alright. I know you're right.” He scrubbed the heel of his hand across his eyes, trying to rub away the tension. “Just... just let me know if anything happens, okay?”

“You know I will, Jim.”

Jim nodded. “Thanks.” There was nothing for him to do here, and the thought of sitting alone in his room and staring at the door to the shared bathroom was totally out of question. He headed back to the bridge, to brood.


	9. Chapter 9

When Nyota entered Spock's room, she was immediately disoriented, though she'd been there often before. The heat had been cranked up to a stifling degree. She was almost certain that the atmospheric controls had been changed as well to mimic the oxygen content and gravitational pull of Vulcan. Spock rarely increased the temperature when he knew humans would be in his presence, and she'd never known him to change the other controls. But when she stepped into the room now, it was like an alien land. Alien. Spock was alien, and everything about this spoke to that alien culture.  _Well, Nyota, you wanted to explore new worlds and peoples. Now is your time to put your money where your mouth is_ . She squared her shoulders and stepped inside, allowing the door to close and lock behind her.

The next thing she noticed was that the already thin air was choked with incense. She could barely  _breathe_ . She felt weak and sweat was already rising to her skin. “Spock?” she called quietly, squinting through the fog of incense smoke. The room was dark, lit only by Spock's fire pot in the corner, and he was kneeling on his woven mat in a meditative pose. As she focused on him, she saw that he was naked. It startled her, for it was the first time she'd ever actually seen him fully nude before. Now she saw the turgid green member before her: big, but not unreasonable. Very similar to that of a human. She relaxed slightly. This was something she could handle.

Spock felt the tones of his mate wash over him. He found it hard to think through the madness. His skin ached. His body ached. His  _katra_ ached with  _need_ . Now his glittering black eyes focused on Nyota with the look of a predator. Somewhere, he heard a low, animalistic growl. It did not register in his mind that it was himself. 

Once Spock had known that he was entering  _pon farr_ , had recognized the reasons behind his public displays of affection, he'd clamped down on those urges so as to not make a public spectacle of himself.  _This is not me_ \- he'd insisted to himself.  _This is an urge which I can control_ . After another few days, he'd removed himself from the bridge and confined himself to quarters so as to avoid a display. His attention span had diminished to the point where he had to concede that he was not getting any real amount of work done any longer. It had taken all of his concentration at that point simply to  _control_ , and he had wound up staring at his screen for hours, not knowing what had occurred around him. He'd felt himself drawn to Nyota, having an urge to touch her, or to at least  _watch_ her, and had known that it was not acceptable to do so. So he'd removed himself from the bridge.

Nyota had wanted to begin right then. It was logical, she'd said, that if his concentration was already so lacking that perhaps they should  _begin_ . She hadn't known what it meant to begin. She'd offered to have sex, awkwardly and clinically, as if that would solve the problem. She'd asked whether they could bond now, and had tried to assure him that she was ready. He'd asked her to leave him to meditate until she was called by the doctor. 

After some consultation with Sarek, Spock was able to obtain relevant numbers of some sort to satisfy McCoy. A critical limit was agreed upon, at which point they would send in Nyota. Spock was reluctant to see this through, and was becoming more and more reluctant as his faculties left him. He needed  _control_ ! He would not hurt Nyota! Except that he would. It was beginning to sink in that soon he would hurt her. As he'd sat those long hours in front of his fire pot, failing utterly to reach even the most basic level of meditation, his hands shook and the fever began to rage within him. His body was betraying him, as he could no longer seem to control his arousal. Even knowing what was to come, he was mortified.  _This is ridiculous. The mind controls the body. The mind controls the body!_

But the mind did not control this body. Not now.

Yes, he'd thought to meditate until his time ran out. He'd thought to find some last inner reserve of strength, to  _prepare_ his mind to welcome Nyota. And if he'd been in his right mind, he would have realized now that that was a mistake. He should have started earlier, while some part of him was still there. But Spock was not really there any longer, and he did not sense  _mistake_ as Nyota walked into the room. He sensed  _mate_ .


	10. Chapter 10

“Spock?” Nyota questioned again, taking a step toward him. The growl had unnerved her. What should she do? Should she go to him? Touch him? Why was he not speaking to her? The alien room was making her nervous.

“ _Fleitau_ .”  Undress,  he spoke to her in Vulcan.

The command behind that word made her blood run cold. But they'd talked about this, she reminded herself. ' _It is important that you remain... submissive_ ' he'd said. She hadn't quite understood what he'd meant, and he hadn't elaborated. This must be part of that, she told herself calmly. “ _Okay._ ” she answered him in kind. “ _Don't worry Spock, I'm here for you.”_ She took a step closer and began to pull off her clothes, leaving them on the floor. By the time she reached him, she knelt on the floor before him, nude. This was still her Spock, and there was nothing to be afraid of. His eyes had followed her hungrily, and she felt slightly self conscious. 

Mesmerized by the sight of the nude female before him, Spock's hand reached out to trace Nyota's face, brushing her psi-points, then travelling down over her collar, against the side of her breast. The low growl issued from his chest again. In all of her time with Spock, she hadn't heard such a sound. She'd heard a gentle purr twice ever when he'd been especially content, but never this.

“ _I burn_ ....” he choked out in Vuhlkansu. His eyes closed and his fingers trembled.

“Spock, it's oka --” Nyota gasped as he suddenly pounced, his hands on her shoulders as she hit the rough carpet hard, flat on her back. She shrieked in spite of herself, panic welling up fast. She couldn't think. Spock's teeth were on her then, forcefully biting into the soft flesh between neck and shoulder. “Oh!” she yelped in pain and thrashed to pull away from him. She hissed. “Spock, stop!  _Stop!_ You're hurting me -- ah!” The teeth broke flesh and Nyota's eyes welled with tears, her heart beating frantically. She pressed at his chest with her hands but he was immovable stone. She scrabbled at him with her nails but he only growled again, his eyes sparking with desire as he licked the trail of blood from her wound. She could feel the hot rod of his flesh slide along her thigh and shuddered, stifling a sob. She'd been so determined to do this. What the  _fuck_ was she doing here now? All logic, all thoughts of her previous commitment fled. For the first time in her life, Nyota felt  _weak_ . Helpless. 

“Spock!” she shouted at him.

“ _Mate_ .” Spock thrust against her thigh and keened, squinting his eyes and throwing his head back in pleasure at the delicious friction.  _Yes_ , his confused mind supplied him.  _Yes, this. This will ease the burning_ . He thrust again, then forced a knee between her legs, widening her stance. Nyota tried to pull at his hair, tried to scrabble with her feet to escape. She awkwardly tried to knee him in the balls but she wasn't sure whether she'd hurt him or simply angered him. He gave a great roar and grabbed at her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. His other hand fit to her psi-points and pressed. “ _Desist!”_ he commanded harshly. “ _Attend!_ ” 

And then Nyota felt an alien mind for the first time. It was like a hot knife slicing through her psyche and she fought with all her inexperienced being to thrust back, sending a clumsy message meaning  _No! Keep out!_ She didn't want this, couldn't take this. She felt  _violated_ by the sensation.

Spock, in a green haze, could hardly make sense of his surroundings. It was not conscious thought that drove him, but excruciating pain, confusion, and longing. This was his mate, his mind supplied. She who will quench your fires. She who would bond with thee. He reached out to take, but she seemed to push back. Some part of his agonized psyche screamed  _You are my mate! Why do you abandon me? I NEED._ He thrust through the wall of her mind, seeking connection.  _Isolated, isolated, my mate my bondmate k'diwa I CANNOT FIND THEE!_ His  _katra_ was ragged with the agony of rejection. Fighting, fighting, who would fight him? He must fight back! He must obtain his equilibrium! At any cost, any cost, any cost.... He took a breath, but it did not clear the fog or the hot coals searing the skin from his bones, the ache that made him want to curl in on himself and die, the soul-cold isolation of his mind, unbonded.

“ _Kroykah!”_ Nyota shouted in desperation. It had some effect. His eyes, once glittering with menace, temporarily clouded with confusion to regard her. She took the opportunity and thrust with all her might, temporarily unbalancing him and struggling across the floor. She felt her ankle clasped, she screamed as she heard it snap. She clawed herself across the carpet, reaching for her discarded dress, the comm unit there, she spotted it sprawled on the dim floor. 

The seconds were a blur, they stretched timelessly. Pain, pain, pain. She fought to control her focus. She needed to get her ass  _out_ of this situation. She didn't know how she got there intact, but finally her fingers closed around the unit and flipped open the screen. “UHURA TO BRIDGE! SEND SECURITY! SEND A MEDICAL TEAM! CODE RED! CODE RED!” She gasped as Spock growled and tried to wrench the device from her hand. She bashed it against his face with all her strength. He would bruise, but he was Vulcan. He had inhuman strength.  _Inhuman_ . All this time she'd loved his alien nature, but now it only inspired horror. This was not Spock, not the Spock she knew. She'd loved a gentle being who had given her respect. Well. She wasn't about to be another nameless victim of spousal abuse and rape. 

Within seconds a security team had burst into the sealed quarters. She didn't have it in her to process what exactly happened, but only felt overwhelming relief when strong, human hands closed around her form and got her out of there. A body was holding her close but gently to his body, and she finally let the fight go out of her. It was over.

“Finnley, clear the corridor.” a comforting, gruff voice commanded. “I want a clear path to sickbay. No need to disgrace the lieutenant further.”

“Aye, Sir.”

It was only then that she realized she was still naked. She leaned her head against the man's shoulder. She couldn't seem to place who he was. It didn't matter. Her head hurt terribly from her psychic battle with Spock. She closed her eyes and let herself finally rest, a mere handful of minutes feeling like hours or even days.


	11. Chapter 11

McCoy wanted to throw up a little when he first saw Lieutenant Uhura's body burst through the sickbay doors. It had been only a handful of minutes since her panicked call to the bridge, enough time for him to prepare himself and his people for the worst. Lieutenant Commander Giotto laid her body gently on the waiting gurney and McCoy whipped out his tricorder, taking note of the damage. Concussion, from some bump on the head, complicated by some crazy readings in her psi-centres that he wasn't sure how to treat. For  _that_ mumbo-jumbo, he'd just have to hope for the best. Broken ankle. Two cracked ribs. Sprained wrist. Bone-deep bruises in multiple places, scratch marks, a bite mark that broke flesh a little too close for comfort to one of her arteries. Pulled muscles, all over. Rug burn on knees, elbows, hips, back, hell, it was everywhere, caused by her mad fight to flee while trapped on the floor. A broken nail with some green blood under it.  _Good for her_ . But no sexual violation, thank god. McCoy felt the tight knot in his gut loosen as relief flooded him. There was damage, but it wasn't as bad as it could be. Still, his mind was staggered by how much damage was inflicted by the Vulcan in such a short span of time. Nyota had barely entered the apartment. What the hell had gone wrong? Or was this how it always was? McCoy recalled Spock's warnings that it would be bad, that there would be damage, and the suggestion that they abandon Nyota to him unless the injuries were life threatening. Well fuck him. She could make her own decisions about her health and safety, thank-you-very-much. 

Jim chose that moment to burst through the sickbay doors. “Giotto, report!” he snapped, his face as dark as a hurricane.

“Captain. Upon your orders, I and three of my men proceeded to Commander Spock's quarters. As per your command, we managed to extricate Lieutenant Uhura, while continuing the quarantine on Commander Spock. The Lieutenant appears to have sustained injuries from Commander Spock --” His professional mask was betrayed by a nervous glance in the direction of the injured party. “We stunned the Commander twice in order to temporarily incapacitate him. No other injuries to report.”

Jim ground his teeth. “Thank you. That will be all. This incident is to be kept strictly confidential. Be sure your men understand the full implications of that.” he snapped.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Giotto couldn't get away from there fast enough. His mind whirled with the few facts that he had to work with. Everyone knew about the strange quarantine on Commander Spock. Everyone knew they were headed to New Vulcan because of it. And Giotto knew that just a few minutes ago Lieutenant Uhura had entered her boyfriend's quarters willingly, only to need to be rescued from what looked to Giotto to be a  _monster_ . That was not the Commander that he'd known. It was terrifying. What in the  _hell_ was going on? He mostly didn't want to know.

 

Jim took a steadying breath. “How is she?” he asked in a moderated tone.

“She'll live.” Bones answered gruffly.

Jim nodded. “I'm sure you'll take care of her.” he said softly. “Now what about Spock?”

McCoy's head whipped around to stare at Jim as if he'd grown an extra head, his eyes wide. “What about goddamned  _Spock_ ?” he snapped back.

“Watch your tone,  _Doctor_ .” Jim snapped back. “Commander Spock is still a member of my crew.”

“Well he ought to be a goddamned  _prisoner_ on this ship. Cracked ribs. Broken ankle. Jesus Christ, Jim, you can see the scratches for yourself.” He looked across the room to Uhura, where his people had already begun to work. “What kind of  _monster_ does this to someone he ostensibly wants to marry?”

“He's Vulcan, Bones. It's part of his biology. You're a Doctor. You had to have known about this.”

“I knew something but I didn't know it would be a horror story.” he grumbled, wondering even to himself whether he'd really understood. Is this what he'd expected? Is this what Spock had expected? “And from what I hear, it's not what  _she_ expected either.”

Jim had to concede that point. Luckily, when Uhura had made her desperate call, only the bridge crew had heard it. Jim had leapt into action, calling for immediate help from security, and then preparing sickbay. He'd already threatened the bridge to secrecy but he assumed his threats wouldn't hold. Not with something that striking. He could still hear her panicked pleas, and he felt a shiver move through him. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath.

“No.” he agreed. “I can't imagine this is what she'd expected.” Not with the sound of her voice. Not with that many marks on her strong, proud body. She looked helpless, defeated. His mind couldn't reconcile what he was seeing with what he knew of Spock.

Jim chewed his lip and looked nervous. “He's still in there, Bones.” he said softly.

McCoy shared a look with Jim and only grunted in acknowledgement of his own shared concern.

“I know what he has.” Jim blurted out.

“What do you mean you know --”

“It doesn't matter.” Jim continued. “Let's just say I know what's going on.” he came clean. “I know about  _pon farr_ .”

McCoy thought a lot of things just then. He wanted to be incredulous, but then this was Jim so who the hell knew where he got his information from. What concerned him more was where this was leading. He had a sneaking suspicion. “Now wait just a minute.”

“Damnit, Bones!” Jim rushed on, knowing McCoy was going to try and stop him. Jim paced across the room the cupboards and began to rifle, finding what he sought quickly. Lubricant. He'd taken some from here before.

McCoy watched with wide eyes. “Just what in the blue blazes do you think you're doing? What's going on in that fool head of yours?”

Jim whirled around and gave his friend a hard look. “If he doesn't have a mate, he could  _die_ .” he said coldly. “It was supposed to be Uhura to save him. Not me. If he'd asked....” he choked back emotion. Now was  _not_ the time to psychoanalyse himself. There wasn't time. “But Uhura's out of the picture, and Spock's alone in there, and I know what he needs to save him. And I'm going to give it to him.” Kirk made toward the door.

Bones' hand reached out and grabbed him by his bicep, temporarily halting him, but his eyes were soft, not hard. “Jim....” he said quietly. What could he possibly say? This was a bad idea; they both knew it. But Spock was in there, and he was dying. Bones was a healer. As angry as he was at Spock for what he'd done to Uhura, he couldn't wish him to suffer such a fate. This was Jim, and he didn't want to lose his friend, his captain, to the madness and danger behind the Vulcan's door.... But he also knew Jim. Jim would stretch out his neck for just about anyone, and he'd stretch all the farther for that green-blooded bastard. He might have never said anything about it, but Bones saw the look that sometimes came into his friend's eyes.

Jim's righteous anger left him for a moment as he shared an unspoken understanding with McCoy. “You're third in command.” he said quietly. “That means you're in charge until this whole ordeal's over, one way or another. You'd better take care of my ship.” he added strictly.

Bones nodded, and let his hand fall away as Jim left.


	12. Chapter 12

Agony. What Spock knew was only agony. He laid against a wall of his quarters, dark save for the false flickering light of the fire pot (all authentic sources of fire having been removed before the Time), curled in on himself and making a wounded, keening noise that he was unaware of. His muscles were locked taut and his breathing was laboured and stuttering. His skin was so hot, it felt like it had burned, felt as if it were peeling away from his form. His muscles ached from their rigid lock, arms around knees in a foetal position. The phaser had done almost nothing to him as adrenaline surged through his overtaxed body, but the fever was quite something else. Another shuddering shiver ripped through him and he could not control his physical reactions to the fever.

All of his other physical pains were nothing in comparison to the desperate ache of his cock, his heavy sack, and the swollen  _chenesi_ of his lower back. Spock had thought he'd been aroused before. Not often -- maybe once or twice in his lifetime. He'd felt certain that he knew what arousal was, and he'd been able, with some meditation, to dismiss it. Those experiences were so incomparable to this that it surely could not even be considered the same thing. His mind whirled within a sexual haze, desperate for anything, anyone to help him relieve this agony. But she who was his mate was gone. 

His mate. His mind could think of nothing but his mate. Internally he screamed at the broken place of bonding. T'Pring was long gone, and no one was there to take her place. His mind called out, his  _katra_ called out, for someone,  _anyone_ , to take her place. In his Time, his bondmate should be drawn to him, to slake his thirst, to lead him from this madness. But there was no one to hear him call. Nyota, he was supposed to have Nyota. He'd  _had_ Nyota. Hadn't he? The world was an unknowable green fog. Had she been a fever dream? But no, there were her clothes, and there, her scent. Her scent drove him further mad.  _Wuh'vasgau'telsu..._ a mate-stealer, one who had taken his mate from him. And he hadn't been able to fight. Something had immobilized him, and in the confusion, she was gone. Even before that, she had  _rejected_ him.  _Why? Why?_ This thing could not be. It was incomprehensible. 

Spock let out a broken, dry sob.

When he'd been able to move, after Nyota had been taken, he'd tried to go after her, but he could not escape his prison. He'd railed in directionless rage, trashing the small amount of his room that he could. But even that had been unfulfilling. He'd had nearly all possible sources of injury removed days ago, in preparation. Not that he could process any of that now. Now he could only pull in on himself, and hope to die, that he might find release from this hell.

 

In the next room, Jim's hands shook as he quickly divested himself of clothing. It had been a while since he'd been with a man, but it wouldn't be his first.  _Thank god for small miracles_ , he said to himself as he slicked one finger and began to prepare himself, thinking of what he knew of the situation. Elder Spock hadn't given him much to work with when it came to practical advice. Then again, the idea was that Kirk wouldn't need to know such things. Well, it was too late to worry about the details now. His eyes were glued to the shared bathroom as he pressed a second finger home.

Spock was violent: this he already knew. The evidence on Nyota made it obvious. But he'd be even more so now that someone had challenged for his mate. This Jim knew, from his conversation with Spock Prime. Well, he wouldn't challenge Spock. He shuddered, hoping it wouldn't be a mistake. He had to somehow convince an angry, crazed Vulcan that he was not the mate-stealer, but rather the mate. He knew now that when Spock had choked him on the bridge that time, that had been just the tip of the iceberg in what an angry Vulcan could do. He suddenly felt very vulnerable without any clothes, his ass slicked like a common whore. He set his jaw. No. He was not a whore. This was for  _Spock_ . It strengthened his resolve. He walked to their shared bathroom and keyed the code to let him through.


	13. Chapter 13

“Spock?” Jim said quietly as he cautiously stepped into the dim room, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light.

Before he could make sense of the dark blur in front of him, he was thrown back against the wall, Spock's left forearm pressed against his throat, his right hand bruising Jim's left shoulder as he pinned him in place. He whispered something harsh and Vulcan that Jim couldn't understand. His heart sped in his chest at the suddenness of the attack, but he consciously calmed himself. He'd expected this, he reminded himself. Spock repeated his ...accusation? His demand? Jim struggled to breathe against the pressure on his neck, but closed his eyes and let his body go as limp as he could make it and still stand.

When he opened his eyes again, he was met with Spock's own glittering black pools. But behind the aggression, Jim saw the suffering. The taut lines etched in Spock's form, the verdant cock straining for release. Cautiously, while trying to maintain eye contact and an intention of surrender, Jim reached out to brush the tips of his fingers along the swollen shaft. Spock hissed and winced, his hand curling to bruise the shoulder more deeply, but his forearm easing off Jim's airway slightly. Jim took slow, deep breaths against the ache in his throat, and carefully curled his fingers around Spock's cock. Spock let out a feral growl and something in his eyes shifted as he regarded the prey before him.

Jim's touch was like ice on his overheated flesh, painful and welcome at once. He'd wanted to fight, to maim, to demand his mate from whomever had taken her, but now the form before him took on a new potential. The cool yielding flesh, so still, so pliant.... He could Claim  _this one_ . He found himself pressing closer to the body, breathing gasps of shared air as the hand tightened around his pained flesh. From somewhere, a pleading whine. Jim watched the change in fascination, but blanked in surprise when he was whirled around to face the wall, thrown off his balance at once and held only by the bruising grip of Spock's left hand on his hips, his right on the back of his throat. He wanted to catch himself, right himself, get back to his own balance, but he fought his instincts, even as Spock's teeth bit into his shoulder,  _hard_ , drawing blood. The alien, sand-papery tongue came out to lick away the trail of blood, and a deep growl of pleasure issued forth.

_He's soothing me_ . Jim's mind supplied.  _He's marked me, but he soothes the sting_ . He relaxed into Spock's grip, his worried thoughts calming. Spock continued to pepper Jim's neck, back, shoulders, any exposed skin with small nips that this time did not break the skin, but left a satisfying pink mark. 

_Mine. This one is mine._ It was the only thought Spock's mind could supply. He  _ached_ to Claim, to sate himself, but he needed to feel certain of his place and the place of his mate. He rubbed his hard cock languidly against Jim's thighs and ass, not aiming or breaching, but alleviating some of his need with delicious friction, and leaving trails of wet pre-cum in his wake.  _He bears my marks. He bears my scent_ . Spock continued to erase all others' claims on his mate, pleased at the compliance of the body, the calm energy he radiated. It soothed Spock, this lack of panic. His mind moved toward the calming anchor.  _Yes, this, a beacon in the storm._ _Sense from madness_ . His hand released Jim's shoulder, reaching around to the psi-points of his face. He pressed his fingers and pressed his mind.

Jim's eyes widened in surprise slightly at the gesture.  _A meld_ \-- his mind supplied, feeling a sense of novelty. He'd done this before with Spock Prime, he knew what it was. And while his previous meld hadn't been exactly  _pleasant_ , per say, he was now delighted by the sense of Spock within him and all around his thoughts. It was warm here, comforting.  _Spock!_ He chirped happily.

_K'diwa. T'nash-veh._ _Yontau nash-veh. Bolau nash-veh._

Jim had no idea what gibberish Spock was whispering into his mind, but he liked it. He felt reassured by it, and felt himself curl into the mental caress like an affectionate kitten. And there, the predatory growl again. With Spock's front pressed against Jim's back, he felt it reverberate through him, and the first tendrils of arousal curled into his stomach. He was certain he'd never heard a more erotic sound. His own cock started to stiffen. He hadn't even  _dreamed_ of having the luxury of arousal here. He'd been prepared for a horror scene to rival some of his experiences of Tarsus IV. But this was something beyond even his choicest fantasies. Waves of arousal, affection, and desire radiated from Jim to Spock.

This was all the encouragement Spock needed. He could wait no longer, and with a sudden precise thrust, he was in.

Jim gasped at the entry, pain blanking his mind for a second as he struggle to accommodate the length and girth, to process mentally what had just taken place. He silently thanked his own foresight in preparation for a split second before conscious thought fled in the wake of the onslaught. Once begun, Spock was insatiable, giving a mighty possessive roar as he drove into the welcoming flesh beneath him, drove his mind deeper into that of  _he-who-would-be-his-mate_ . He  _took, took, took_ all he could from the willing body, drinking deeply from the cool waters to quench his devastating thirst. 

Jim's hands scrabbled for purchase on the wall but he gave up any real pretence of standing without aid, surrendering himself to Spock's overpowering strength. For all the sex he'd had in his lifetime, this was something altogether new -- to be the weaker, the more delicate party in this act. Even when he'd been with other men, he'd been an equal. But Spock, Spock was easily three times his strength. His mind whited out in bliss at the thought of it, feeling small in the most exquisite way, cherished, protected, held, Claimed. The litany of Vulcan speech surrounded him, and he no longer knew what was real or in his mind. While he could not discern the words, he could discern the meaning. A pervading sense of ownership, a primal  _Mine!_ that enveloped his soul. He gave. He gave everything he had to Spock, tears coming to his eyes at the notion of finally belonging to someone.

Jim keened almost brokenly at the pleasure that assaulted him as Spock drove brutally into his prostate again and again. He reached up one hand to that of Spock's on his meld points and interlaced fingers in an awkward but intimate Vulcan kiss. It was enough to tip Spock over the final precipice as he came into his lover, releasing torrents until his legs shook and they lowered to the floor, Jim wrapped in his arms as he spooned around his mate, unwilling to extract himself or give an inch of space.

Jim lay there for some time, his mind coming back to himself, his cum coating his stomach and legs, Spock's cum leaking lazily out of a still-plugged ass.  _Huh--_ he noted -- _that's a first._ For, he'd never before come through penetration alone.  _Was Spock that good, or was it related to the meld?_ he wondered idly.

He was content -- no,  _enamoured_ with the situation. He curled into the embrace affectionately, and pulled one of Spock's hands to his lips to pepper it with human style kisses. Spock leaned forward enough to begin to lazily suck a bruise into the back of Jim's neck, his cock already firming again inside the body of his mate, and he canted his hips languidly, not rushing his second round. A gentle buzz filled Jim's mind, a sense that Spock, though the meld had ended, was still somewhat there. He closed his eyes and relaxed to Spock's use of him, silently willing the experience to never end.


	14. Chapter 14

He was so tired. So sore. Mostly his ass was sore. Jim shifted and winced, and an arm tightened around his torso as he lay on his back. He glanced to his left and saw a contented sleeping Vulcan, possessive even in his slumber. Jim sighed. It was endearing, but he really did want to get up. He looked across the room to his right, toward the bed. They had to have been at it for hours now as Jim came in and out of consciousness, both from sheer exhaustion and from the crazy things Spock seemed to be doing to his mind, and they  _still_ hadn't made it to the bed. Jim had rug burns on his rug burns. He looked longingly across the room at the soft silken sheets the Vulcan normally indulged in. He wouldn't have thought Spock to be so  _indulgent_ , expecting to find only regulation starched cotton, but there it was. An oasis... but just out of reach.

Not only that, but he was desperately thirsty. What had it been... a day now? But of course Spock never kept a chronometer in his rooms -- innate Vulcan sense of time and all of that. The computer console was missing, he noted as he looked around as best he could from the floor. The room was stark. Jim remembered hearing something about precautionary measures, and Spock's things being sent to storage somewhere. So. No way to know what day it was.

He looked over Spock's shoulder at the bathroom. He had to piss desperately, and he half thought he had to shit, but a) that might just be the bucketloads of cum and b) he wasn't so certain he wanted to attempt anything so... strenuous, if he didn't have to. Still, he had to take a leak and he had to get some fluids in him. His mouth was dry as a desert in this heat. He didn't know how Spock could stand it.

He carefully, subtly, tried to shift out of Spock's grasp. After a few millimetres, the hold tightened and Spock's eyes flew open. Jim met the gaze, and it was unreadable.

“Spock.” Jim whispered with a hoarse, dry voice. “Let me go use the head.” He wriggled.

A low growl was his answer.

Jim stilled himself, pursing his lips in thought. He could feel a dangerous sense of territorialism buzzing around in the back of his head. He sighed. It figured Spock had to go all crazy at a time like this. Vulcan logic be damned.

Jim looked at Spock pleadingly, then shifted his eyes to the 'fresher, then back, trying to communicate his need but not trying to pull away.

Spock languidly ground his newly forming erection against Jim's hip.

Shit. This wasn't headed in the right direction. “Spock.” Jim tried again.

“ _T'hy'la_ .” Spock answered with a contented smile.

“I have to pee. And I'm thirsty.”

No response. More grinding.

In a bout of frustration, Jim grabbed Spock's hand and pressed it to his psi-points, projecting the image of the bathroom, his desperation to pee, to get a drink, as hard as he could. He knew it would be a clumsy attempt, but for a moment, he swore Spock's eyes cleared slightly and the incessant grinding stopped. He tried to project reassurance that he'd come back, and again shifted away from the Vulcan, overwhelmed with relief that it was allowed. As quickly as he could he made his way to the head, stumbling on unsteady legs as he want there, and he could feel Spock's intent gaze boring a hole into him as he left.

Jim actually moaned as he felt the urine leaving his over full bladder. God, this in itself was orgasmic enough, never mind the last however-many-hours. He looked at himself in the mirror and had to grin. He was filthy, covered bruises and bite marks, rug burns and cum, and looked like he hadn't slept for a good long time. But he was so happy. Content. He looked thoroughly debauched, and it made him snicker. Here he'd thought Spock to be the innocent one, but the Vulcan had sure showed him a thing or two. He took a moment to wipe his ass as well, searching for tearing or blood. As far as he could tell he wouldn't sit for a month but there was no substantial damage, miracle upon miracles. Then again there was an endless supply of natural lubricant up there at this point, and he'd been so thoroughly fucked that he didn't need much preparation any longer. He filled his bathroom cup with water and drank three full cups -- wishing he had time and patience to get down more, but not wanting to make himself sick with it.

In the other room, Spock looked around in a panic. Already his mind was clouding with another bout of fever, and he couldn't remember where his mate had gone. Where was he? Why was Spock alone again? Abandoned, abandoned, always isolated and alone. He sat up, scrabbling the floor around him in desperation, as if looking for dropped keys. It was a ridiculous manoeuvre, but he was not thinking logically any longer. His eyes searched the room. It was no longer as dark. Someone had turned the lights up to a dim glow. His mate. His mate had done it, his mind supplied. Where was he?

Jim was hit full force with a sense of panic not his own, the low hum in the back of his mind flaring into a thunderous roar. “ _Fuck!_ ” he shouted, his hands coming to his temples. Instant migraine. “Jesus, Spock, _I'm right here!”_ he shouted testily. With a sigh he abandoned his water and came back into the room, only to be pinned against the wall almost exactly where he'd been pinned upon first entry.  _Deja vu_ . 

Except this time Spock's sense of utter and complete relief was palpable, as he peppered Jim's face and head with human style kisses, murmuring in Vulcan all the way. Jim gave a small laugh. Jim tried to move away from the wall with Spock, to head him toward the welcoming bed, but Spock shoved him back against the wall with a growl of frustration and panic. Jim rolled his eyes, and put his hands to either side of Spock's face, halting his flurry of quick pecks and kissing him thoroughly on the mouth. Spock moaned, getting with the program, and ground his hardened cock against Kirk's own half interested one.

As clearly as he could, Jim projected an image of them  _on the bed_ across the room to Spock, doing any number of vaguely sexual things, and Spock's eyes lit with interest. A bed! What a novel idea! In a sudden rush of excitement, Spock grabbed Jim's wrist and dragged him over to the mattress, throwing him down atop it. Jim let himself fall.  _Finally! A fucking bed to do the fucking!_ Jim smiled and was more than happy to let Spock continue to have his way.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Spock stretched on his back, arms and legs curling as his back arched delightfully. He felt so  _rested_ , so content. He cracked his eyes open blearily and winced at the light of the room. He could have sworn he'd turned those lights down. It was still warm, but the gravity was wrong, and the oxygen content. Who had been messing with the controls? He fought his way through the fog in his brain, realizing on some level that it was not normal for him to be so disoriented, for his mental reactions to not be immediate. 

He felt someone shifting on the bed beside him and abruptly turned his head.  _The Captain?!_ A bolt of panic shot through him as he tried to make sense of events.  _Ponfo mirann!_ It all came rushing back in blurry, fleeting glimpses of action. He was certain he'd never fully recover memories from the  _plak tow_ . Nyota had been injured. And then the captain, no,  _Jim_ , had come in and.... Spock closed his eyes and regulated his breathing, trying and failing to will away the verdant flush of embarrassment. It was a small consolation that where he'd been expecting to recall horror, he instead had flashes of intensely erotic imagery. It  _couldn't_ have all been bad.

He opened his eyes again and regarded Jim more critically, searching for damage. Jim's face was turned from him as he lay half on his stomach, half on his side, one knee thrown up for support. He was sprawled in exhaustion, fist still loosely clutching sheets as if in passion, but his mouth was slack and he had a slight snore. His back which faced Spock was a mess of inflamed scratches. Spock felt a confusing pang of guilt and satisfaction as he viewed his marks. He reached out slim fingers to caress the perfectly rounded globes before him, and Jim's breath hitched for a second as if he might rouse. Spock stilled, and the deep breathing resumed as Spock felt free to resume his caress. Gently, he pulled the cheeks apart to search for damage. A very well used hole presented itself -- tender, yielding, and with evidence of Spock's visitation leaving wet trails across the skin and on the sheets.

Jim stirred and gave a quiet, sleepy moan, shifting unconsciously to allow Spock better access. Spock blinked slowly. How often had he used Jim to instil such behaviour? He felt himself shudder, wasn't certain whether it was from the shame and disgust of using him so, or from the overwhelming eroticism of the fact. His hands continued to wander, feeling muscle and bone shift beneath such smooth, moist skin -- so different from his own. Aside from the marks of passion (overzealous as they were) there seemed to be no damage to his mate.  _His mate_ . Spock allowed a small smile at the notion of it, as only now he noticed the buzzing of a link in his mind. 

_This is Jim_ \-- his mind supplied. He focused in. The thoughts and emotions Jim supplied were fuzzy and disjointed. Perhaps a dream. The link was not yet strong enough to discern more -- not yet a full mating bond. Spock felt a pang of guilt but not regret. Now that he had tasted this mind, it was like an addiction. He recalled in a hazy, indistinct way, the coarse grating of Nyota's mind against his own during those brief moments of confrontation. While he felt profound regret for damaging her (he knew only that he had, but worryingly, not the extent), he could not feel regret at this change in circumstance.  _Jim, t'hy'la_ . His mind sang in perfect harmony with  _this one_ .  _A friendship to define us indeed, old man_ , he thought wryly. 

“Sp'k” Jim mumbled as he began to stir. 

Spock felt slightly guilty about his roaming caresses now. His mate was exhausted. He should not disturb him during these few moments of lucidity when he could afford to offer him rest. “Yes, Jim?” he answered levelly.

Jim rolled over and scrubbed the sleep from his eyes. His mouth was dry as dust once more. “You're awake.” he offered with a sleepy smile.

“Indeed.”

“And you're not humping me. That's a change. 's it over?” he mumbled. He tried to sit up and winced. His everything hurt, and he was  _so tired_ .

“It is not.” Spock admitted heavily, his gaze darting away.

Jim reached out to caress his cheek, drawing his gaze once more. “Don't worry 'bout it.” he reassured.

Spock marvelled at the generosity of this man, at a loss for how to respond. “ _Jim_ \--” his voice broke slightly with emotion.  _Why are you here? What have you done? What have you offered to me? Can you even understand?_

“I  _said_ don't worry about it.” Jim reaffirmed. Spock's eyes widened in surprise. “What, you think I can't tell you're freaking out? Not only have you always been pretty obvious to me, but I can feel the weird tingly buzzy thing you put in my head, Spock. No, don't! Please stop freaking out about it. It gives me a headache.” he pleaded.

“I apologize. My controls are not what they should be.” Spock answered in a barely concealed panic. “I can assure you that in the future this will not occur.”

“What do you mean? If you mean the headaches I'm all for it, but you'd better not shut me out, Mister.” Jim jabbed him sternly with a pointed finger. He narrowed his eyes. “I've endured countless days of sexual bliss for this.” he snarked. “Certainly I've earned it.”

“I --” Spock was at a loss for words, and coloured with blush once more. That Jim's mind sang  _adorable_ at him only made his colour deepen. 

Jim finally began to rouse himself from the bed. “I  _really_ need to go to the bathroom, Spock. Please don't freak out, 'kay?” He tentatively tried to stand on overtaxed legs and found himself sitting hard on his ass.  _That_ hurt. He winced.

Spock peeked down at him from his perch on the bed. “I will assist you.” he declared unilaterally, and proceeded to mostly lift Jim and carry him to the head -- allowing Jim to simulate walking (illogically) for his small amount of remaining dignity.

Jim's legs were not the only thing that shook as he relieved himself. He noticed the small tremor in his hands, indicative of very low blood sugar. Hunger, he'd learned to ignore, but there would always be physical consequences. He wasn't the only one to notice either. “Do you  _have_ to watch me, Spock?” he queried. He'd never been pee-shy, but he was  _trying_ to shit now and it was unnerving to do so with a cagey Vulcan eyeing him up.  _Please don't let Spock interrupt this to undo all of my good work._

_“_ Negative.” Spock answered, and tore his gaze away from the mesmerizing view of his new mate. He thrust a cup of water into Jim's hands and padded back into his room to dial some food from his replicator. He glanced around at the filthy status of the room, noting belatedly his own and Jim's own rank appearance and scent.  _Kaiidth_ . There was more to come, and they needed to use their time wisely. When Spock heard the flush of the toilet, he reappeared to assist Jim back to the bed.

“I can walk myself, you know.” he grumbled.

“I find that unlikely.” he retorted dryly.

Jim let out a small snicker at that. It was the first he'd seen of the old Spock in days. It was the easy rapport he'd  _dreamed_ of having with the Vulcan, and he felt a moment of panic as he wondered whether it would last. After all, Spock hadn't asked for this.

“I have no intention of leaving you.” Spock assured him, catching the general drift of Jim's thoughts as he settled him into the bed, passing him a plate laden with food and drink. “Please eat and drink while there is still time. I will not be responsible for damage to your person while I am in my right mind.”

“Yes,  _Commander_ .” Jim answered cheekily, not accustomed to being ordered around by his First. “You're pretty bossy, you know that?”

“I am aware. Eat your food, Jim.”


	16. Chapter 16

McCoy sat at his desk, staring at his computer and trying to make sense of the sensor data for Spock's quarters. Two life signs -- one was Jim, one was Spock. And both were moving around at their leisure, and neither seemed to be grievously injured. But how?

How had Jim done it? Or what the hell had gone wrong for poor Nyota? It was day three of this ordeal and he had no answers. Spock had said three to ten days... well, it was nearing the end of day three and judging by the heart rates and breathing rates that occasionally spiked, this affliction was not over. He sighed. Just two more days and they'd reach New Vulcan. Jim had left him in charge. Well, it was well into gamma shift and McCoy's hated bridge duty was well over. He should be sleeping now, he knew, but he couldn't help his need to come to his office for one more peek at the sensor data.

He hated being left in charge of the damned ship. He was a doctor, not a starship captain. But he was third in command, and barring an actual emergency, he'd be the one who had to stand on the bridge in front of that damned screen and talk to Spock's  _father_ , Ambassador Sarek, when they arrived. And wouldn't  _that_ be a fun conversation. 

_You are not the captain. I would inquire his location._

_Oh, he's just off fucking your son. Never mind those grandkids you had in mind._

He winced. Not that Nyota could have had grandkids with Spock anyway, without medical intervention, but it was the principle of the matter. 

Not that she'd want anything to do with Spock now anyway.

Bones recalled when she'd finally come back to consciousness, an hour after the rescue ordeal. Her injuries were traumatizing, but not difficult to heal. He'd done most of the work by the time she came to. She'd need to stay off her ankle for a few days. Her ribs would be a bit tender, and she had bruises. He'd given her something for the migraine -- induced in equal parts by the concussion and the botched mind-meld. Bones figured she should probably see a Vulcan healer just to be on the safe side, but the crazy readings had calmed down for the most part.

 

At first she'd been beside herself with shock -- just crying, and rambling on in a panic about what had happened. “He attacked me!” she choked another sob. “He-he-he... oh  _god_ , Len.” He patted her back reassuringly.

“You're okay now, darlin'.”

“He was an  _animal_ .” she'd said, aghast.

After a time, she had settled down. Nyota was a strong woman, and her rationality won out. She'd asked about Spock's status, and McCoy hadn't had it in him to lie. He told her the truth -- that Jim had gone in. And for a moment, she simply absorbed that in silence. Bones could only wonder what she must be thinking -- hell, he still didn't know what to think of the situation himself. She hadn't wanted to talk about it after that, and he hadn't blamed her.

 

The second day of the whole affair, he'd kept Nyota around for observation. She'd come and gone a handful of times -- to the mess to eat, to her room to clean and change -- but he'd wanted to keep an eye not only on her injuries, but on her emotional state. She hadn't wanted to talk about the situation then either, and when he'd tried to subtly bring it up to gauge how she was handling it, she'd seemed, quite frankly, pissed. Well, that could be a good sign, he reasoned. He was no psychiatrist. But at least she was expressing something. He'd be pissed too.

In between his hovering (hovering over Nyota and over Jim and Spock's sensor readings), he'd had to do most of a shift on the bridge. First thing was first. There were questions.

He'd already ascertained the nature of the frantic call Nyota had made to the bridge, and the crew were understandably shaken by it. They wanted to know what in the nine hells was going on, and McCoy had to admit that they deserved _some_ explanation. But how to tell them enough without giving away too much?

“Ees Lieutenant Uhura eenjored?” Chekov asked nervously.

Bones scowled back, grinding his teeth as he glanced around the room. All eyes were on him, waiting for an explanation.

“She suffered some moderate injuries in an accident yesterday, but she's recovering well in sickbay now.”

“Can we see her?” Sulu asked.

Bones nodded. “She should be able to see visitors today when you all get a chance. But I don't want any uncomfortable questions being asked of her about _what happened._ Is that clear?”

Nods from all around. Surely Uhura and Spock's reliefs cared too, but Bones knew it was Sulu and Chekov who knew her the best up here. It hardly even seemed like alpha shift with three of the team missing, and Bones stuck in the centre seat, away from his sickbay.

“Ees something to do with Meestir Spock?” Chekhov pressed. “Zee call came from his quarters. He ees sick with mystery illness, and zee lieutenant bas called off zee bridge to his quarters beforehand. Now ve are missing zee captain as vell. Vhat is going on?”

“Damnit Chekov! I'm a doctor, not a gossip mill! Now listen up. I can't give away any more details about what's ailin' Spock without breaking doctor-patient confidentiality. The important thing is that Lieutenant Uhura is safe and well in sickbay, and the captain is handling the situation. Now let's all get back to work and keep our heading on New Vulcan as planned. The sooner we get there the sooner this whole mess can be cleared up and behind us.” _I hope_.

“Aye, Sir.” Sulu responded immediately, turning back toward his screen and giving a warning look to Chekov as he turned. Chekov sullenly swallowed the barrage of questions he still had unanswered and bent his head to his work. The atmosphere on the bridge was tense and McCoy didn't know what he could possibly do to fix it. _Damnit. Jim would know how to dispel this kind of tension with some sarcastic remark right about now, but he's got his fool self locked up with that hobgoblin doin' lord knows what_.

McCoy kept his head down and read reports that someone had to take care of in the absence of the two senior officers. By an hour before lunch break, he couldn't stand the tension any longer and handed the conn over to Sulu as he retreated back to his sickbay to watch his sensors, check on Uhura, and brood.

 

By this third day, he'd allowed Nyota back on the bridge for half a shift, and she'd been grateful.

“It's against my better judgement,” he'd said, “but I'm letting you work half a shift if you want to. Get your mind off it.” No need to define “it.”

Her rigid exterior softened. “Thank you, Len.” she said sincerely, squeezing his arm in appreciation. She took a deep, shaky breath. “I just... I need to focus on my work again, on why I came on this ship to begin with. This thing with Spock....” she shook her head and straightened her spine. “I can't let it define me. I should have realized that sooner.”

Bones blinked in surprise. “Define you? Hell, I wouldn't say the hobgoblin has  _ever_ defined you. You're brilliant in your own right.”

She smiled. “I appreciate that, and that's what I want others to see as well. But I know they haven't always. I thought it didn't bother me, but now I think it did.”

“How do you mean?”

“Oh you know. I was seeing him at the university. We tried to keep it quiet, because student/teacher relationships are frowned on. But of course everybody knew.  _Spock_ never thought less of me for it, and I never judged him. But I think we both suffered from it. People thought he was showing favouritism with me, that it's how I got my position on the  _Enterprise_ . I heard people question my credentials, or whether I just knew how to speak Vulcan from my boyfriend. I told myself that no one who really mattered thought these things, so it didn't matter to me. But it does matter. This is my career. This is what I've worked for.

“And I'm sorry if that makes me a colossal bitch.... I feel like I should  _care_ more about what's going on. I was supposed to save him from this, this  _thing_ . I was supposed to  _bond_ with him! That's for life! I don't know what I was  _thinking_ .” she pushed her hair out of her face in exasperation. McCoy didn't want to interrupt her. This was the most she'd spoken about it since it had happened, and he didn't want to impede what she had to say. 

“But when it  _happened_ ...” she shuddered. “That's not the Spock I knew. That's not the Spock I fell in love with, or dated for two years. We weren't perfect, but it wasn't like... like  _that_ . I don't know what I was expecting, but there's no way I could deal with that even this once, let alone every seven years. I don't know how Amanda.... But it's not polite to speak about that. 

“And now you tell me Kirk's in there, and I don't know  _what_ to think. I never really  _liked_ him but I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.” she suppressed a shudder again. “Is he okay in there?”

_That_ was an uncomfortable question, but he'd answer. “According to my sensors, everything is fine.” he said levelly.

“Everything is fine.” she repeated with a sort of dazed incredulity. Her eyes widened slightly as she thought about it. “I really don't know what to think about that, honestly. Should I be insulted? What the hell did I do?” she asked. Her voice was calm but her eyes desperate.

“I don't know that you did anything.” Bones tried to reassure her, placing his hand on her knee and giving it a squeeze. “Who the hell knows what goes on in the mind of those hob-goblins? This whole mating cycle is a complete mystery to me as much as it is to you, and I'm a doctor! But don't you beat yourself up over it. You didn't ask to be abused, and I can't imagine you doing a single thing to deserve it. Now, I don't know  _what_ is going on in there, or  _how_ it is that Jim seems to be largely uninjured. I chalk it up to his damn fool  _luck_ . The kid has raced head first into every catastrophe he's found since the day he was born, and this isn't any exception. I just hope his luck doesn't run out by the time this is all said and done.”

Uhura shook her head at the foolishness of her captain. It  _was_ just like him -- an infuriating but oft-times admirable trait. “God... what are they going to do if they both survive this?” she asked. “They'll be stuck together. I'm not even sure they  _like_ each other.”

McCoy barked a laugh.  _Like_ each other? He'd seen Jim practically mooning over the Vulcan from the beginning. Spock himself was a bit harder to fathom, but he had a suspicion that the Vulcan wasn't always as annoyed as he put on. After all, he'd decided last minute that the  _Enterprise_ was worth serving on under Jim after all, and he'd planted himself firmly at Jim's side for every landing party to date. No, the Vulcan did more than tolerate Jim's presence. “Oh, if Jim can get himself through this  _pon farr_ business, I don't doubt he'll find a way to keep married to the Vulcan, regardless of whether Spock pretends to like it or hate it.”

Uhura couldn't help but give a small laugh herself at the absurdity of the image presented. The captain and his first officer: bondmates. Well, she'd gotten herself on this ship for her career, and that was what she'd focus her mind on now. She didn't have time to worry about the drama this could introduce to the command team.

 

 

And so Bones was happy to see Uhura somewhat herself again.

And he was happy that thus far Jim seemed uninjured, and that Spock was still alive and relatively well.

But as he stared at his monitor and the blinking lights of the sensors, he still couldn't quite  _make sense_ of it. 

How had Jim managed it? How did he always seem to have such perfect luck?


	17. Chapter 17

Sarek knew immediately that something was wrong when he failed to see Captain James T. Kirk on the viewer as the _Enterprise_ reached New Vulcan and made contact. Sarek was an ambassador and knew that social convention required the captain to greet him on screen -- no other. Even a captain as young and impulsive as Captain Kirk would have known that and acted accordingly. And yet it was not his face that Sarek regarded on the screen, but rather the face of Doctor Leonard McCoy. Had the captain somehow become injured by his son? The violence of _pon farr_ was directionless and brutal.

“Ambassador.” McCoy gave a mangled _ta'al_ in greeting. _If the hobgoblins don't like my gestures, well then I'll show them a gesture they can really get themselves riled over._

“Doctor McCoy.” Sarek answered flatly.

“Currently I am Acting Captain McCoy.” he informed him. “Commander Spock is currently still confined to his quarters with his illness.” McCoy stated. He'd opted not to do this in private in the ready room, but in full view of the bridge crew, so he had to choose his words carefully. “You are welcome to board the _Enterprise_ in the meantime if you like. I would be happy to receive you and anyone you deem appropriate to bring along.”

“I shall do so. I will be accompanied by Healer Stolic. Please have the beaming coordinates sent and I shall join you shortly.” Enough of this mystery. Sarek _would_ find out what was going on. Captain or no, he was anxious to see that his son survived his first Time.

New Vulcan was in absolute chaos right now with an overwhelming number of unbonded males thrown into premature _pon farr_ as their minds desperately sought new bonds for mental stability. Sarek himself had been one of the first batch to be thrown into such chaos, he was shamed to acknowledge. His bond with Amanda had been strong, and to have lost her in the way he had... it was unbearable. Even now, months later, his controls were tenuous. He'd been thrown into his Time and had been _assigned a relief_. That was what they were calling such actions.

The women had bravely volunteered for the task of stabilizing their men. They too suffered madness upon losing their mates, and suicide had been an issue in the days immediately following The Day. But very quickly the new threat was the mating drive effecting only the men, and T'Pau had rallied the women together in an effort to save the dwindling numbers of their race. Fulfilling their duty would serve twofold: it would preserve the men, and it would create children. The logic of it was sound, but Sarek did not have to _like_ it.

And so now he found himself bonded anew to one T'Lina. It was a bond of necessity, nothing more. They shared the small one room shelter that had been assembled for them. They sought solace and stability in their newly formed bond. But Sarek had not yet come to really know her or appreciate her, and his grief for Amanda remained raw and angry beneath the surface of his collected facade. The only consolation he had was that T'Lina was similarly effected by the loss of her mate and three children. _She has lost more than I have,_ he would tell himself _, and still she does not shrink from her duty. I must do well for her as she deserves_. He had not told Spock yet of T'Lina, but he planned to explain all once his son's own Time had passed.

It was only after Sarek's _pon farr_ that he'd informed Spock of the chaos unfolding, and had been made aware that Spock was similarly effected. It was fortuitous, then, to know that Spock had had his illicit relationship with one Lieutenant Uhura. Sarek had seen them together during his short stay on the _Enterprise_. He'd known the nature of their relationship, and he'd gathered that it had been inappropriate for so many reasons -- that Spock was promised to T'Pring, that Spock was a professor while the lieutenant a student, and now that they were both commanding officers aboard this ship. These were the reasons Sarek knew that Spock had likely not spoken to him of this woman.

But he could not now come to think anything ill of the couple. He felt only relief that Spock had _someone_ there, someone who would help him through this Time. He'd been secretly elated when Spock had sent news of his plans, to bond with Nyota Uhura on his route to New Vulcan. She was a smart woman, and strong, and beautiful. She'd reminded Sarek of his Amanda in some ways, and he was prepared now to receive her into the family.

 

“Are yeh ready, Sair? _”_ Scotty asked with a grin at the grumpy McCoy. “Ah'm reddy t' beam up th' Vulcans.”

“Just shoot me now.” he groused, earning a chuckle from Scotty. “May as well get it over with. Go ahead, Scotty.”

“Aye, Sair.”

 

 

“Ambassador Sarek, Healer Stolic.” Bones refrained from mangling the _ta'al_ a second time, settling for a polite nod.

“McCoy.” Sarek said simply.

“If you'll follow me, gentlemen.” he led the way to a nearby conference room that would give them privacy. The threat seated themselves silently, ignoring the full glasses of water McCoy had had set out in preparation.

Sarek broke the silence first with an icy demand. “Doctor, what is the status of my son and his _telsu_?”

Well, that made things easy. He evaded. “As I had stated, they are in Spock's quarters under our arranged quarantine.”

“Are they injured?”

“Sensors indicate no major injuries to either party at present.” _Spock would be proud of this evasion_ , McCoy thought smugly. It was Vulcan-level misdirection.

Sarek nodded thoughtfully, seemingly placated. He relaxed minutely. “And where is the captain?”

 _Shit._ “With Spock.”

Sarek stared at him a long moment. Stolic, wisely, kept silent throughout the exchange. “I do not comprehend.” Sarek said at length. “Do you mean to indicate that the captain of this ship is in some way... _involved_... with the goings on of my son and Lieutenant Uhura?”

“Not at all.” McCoy said reassuringly.

Sarek's relief lasted seconds.

“Lieutenant Uhura is no longer involved with Commander Spock. Her... that is, her _position_. Aw, hell. Jim's in there with that hobgoblin and I'll let him dig himself out of this hole when you're ready to stare _him_ down.” he ended defiantly.

Sarek's eyebrows rose clear into his hair. He shared a brief glance at Stolic who was desperately practising his best Vulcan mask. “Indeed? This was _not_ the plan as I understood it, Doctor.” he clipped in icy tones.

“And abusing one of my crew was not the plan as _I_ understood it, _Ambassador_.” McCoy countered.

“One of... Who was injured?”

“The lieutenant.”

Oh. _Oh_. Sarek began _connecting the dots,_ as Amanda would have said, and the picture presented to him was not aesthetically pleasing. Well. His race, what was left of it, was in chaos. Why should his son be an exception. “I see.” he said quietly, feeling intensely uncomfortable to be having this conversation about his son _at all_ , let alone with an outsider. He was uncertain what Starfleet's protocol would be regarding the situation, but he was fairly certain it could all be glossed over if T'Pau pressed the issue. “What is the status of the lieutenant?” he asked quietly.

“She got pretty banged up in short order but she'll be fine.” McCoy was settling down as Sarek showed signs of _giving a damn_.

“I am gratified. It is illogical to regret, especially for another's actions, yet I... am disheartened, to hear of her mistreatment in this.” He paused. “Yet you say that my son and his captain are uninjured?”

“That's right.”

 _Most curious, indeed_. The last time Sarek had really seen the two interact, Spock had been trying to choke out Captain Kirk on the bridge. Their relationship must have changed considerably from such a time for Kirk to find himself uninjured by a Vulcan in the violent fires of the _plak tow_. Or had he? His eidetic memory replayed the scene again as he searched for clues in the details. He asked himself now as he had not before: Had Kirk even fought back once Spock's hands were 'round his throat? The revelation startled him and he quickly shut his roaming thoughts from straying down avenues he'd rather not contemplate.

“Then I shall not disturb you any further. If someone will please show us to guest quarters, we will await my son and his _telsu_. I trust you will inform us the moment the ordeal has ended.”

McCoy nodded, grateful that the conversation, for now at least, was over. With any luck, the next time he saw Sarek, it would be from a safe distance while the _captain_ explained himself. _That_ would be something to see. Sarek scared the shit out of Bones and Jim alike.

“I'll have somebody show you to your rooms. Please make yourselves at home. I'm sure you remember where things are at, Ambassador.”

“Indeed.”


	18. Chapter 18

Jim whimpered a bit as he was roused from sleep again to the feeling of hard Vulcan cock disturbing his tender backside. He winced at the unpleasant soreness and gave a sigh, trying to remain limp. He was curled onto his side in the spoon position with his top leg bent at the knee to accommodate Spock. Half-heartedly, his fingers clutched at the sheet in an effort to focus his mind away from the pain. Certainly it wasn't the worst he'd ever felt, but neither was it pleasant at this point. His own cock lay flaccid and he wondered vaguely whether _that_ had ever happened during sex before.

“Jim.” Spock murmured into the back of his neck. He'd been becoming increasingly coherent for longer spans of time lately. Jim vaguely remembered Spock's assurances that it was almost over. Now he felt the Vulcan press human style kisses over every inch he could reach as if in apology for what he must do.

“It's okay, Spock.” Jim assured him tiredly.

A restrained hiccup was enough to make Jim twist his head back to look at his lover, startled to find tears streaking his face. “Hey, hey....” he tried to awkwardly reassure him while unable to turn, still being impaled and fucked as Spock quietly sobbed. “What's wrong?”

“Please forgive me. This is....” he stilled himself and shuddered, trying desperately to control his urge to mate. It was too horrid for words. Spock _disgusted_ himself. His hips gave another involuntary thrust and he again stilled himself. _Just pull out and cease this_ he coached himself. _Enough. This is enough_. But he did not pull out. His fingers clutched into Jim more forcefully as he battled with himself, until he caught a hint of Jim's _new_ pain caused by the bruising of his fingers. He quickly tried to regain his control and loosen his fingers and while his focus was on his hands he suddenly felt th overwhelming urge to _bite_ Jim, to leave yet another of many marks on his flesh. He ended up sucking a bruise as he willed himself not to bite down and his hips began to slowly rock again.

The dim buzz of Spock's consciousness that Jim had sensed the other day was now much clearer. He still felt a bit dizzy when he tried to focus too keenly on the new mental connection, but at this moment with Spock's mental control in tatters, Jim got a clear understanding of what the problem actually was.

“Shshsh.” he soothed his partner, projecting as much love and caring as he possibly could over the bond. “Don't worry about that, Spock. I'm not upset. I'm not disgusted. You can see that, can't you?” he coaxed, and felt Spock's confused mind timidly prodding the link, causing a pleasant frisson in his mind whenever the Vulcan focused on him. Jim smiled in spite of the pain, in spite of the absurdity of the situation. There was Spock. Inside his mind was Spock, and they weren't even melded. A bubble of pure bliss began to lift and envelope him when he took it all in. “Let me feel....” he coaxed, knowing Spock would understand because he'd done it before.

Spock's hand reached around to Jim's temple and he was instantly swept into a meld, sensing this act from Spock's point of view. Whatever pain remained was blotted out and forgotten by the couple as they began to feed off the last remains of the fever, the delicious release and sanctuary Spock found in his mate. Oblivious to the physical world around him, Jim felt Spock's release as if it were his own, felt the rush of endorphins in the afterglow as the meld slowly dissipated and he came back into himself.

“Captain.” Spock said after a time.

Jim couldn't help the giggles that issued forth. “ _Captain?_ Really, Spock?” He rolled over to look into his lover's eyes. They were completely lucid. And worried.

“That... may be the last of it. That is, I believe I may be able to control my urges more successfully from this point forward.”

“Oh! Well... that's great news.” Jim smiled. “I mean... isn't it? Why do you look so worried? I'll still help you through the rest of it if that wasn't the last one.” he rushed to reassure Spock. Through the bond he could only sense a vague unease.

“I would not.... I do not wish to presume you would put yourself in such a situation. You require medical attention and recuperation.”

“We'll get to that. What's this really about? I'm not bleeding. Nothing's broken.... What's got you so worked up now?”

Spock averted his eyes and stared at the sheets. They were soiled. His eyes flicked to the room, barren of his belongings, soiled, with a few broken items, torn clothing.... Nyota's clothing had been removed to a trash receptacle at some point during the ordeal,when Jim had sensed Spock's distress over it. The absence of the clothing was noted now, though, during this moment of total lucidity. It seemed no matter where he chose to avert his eyes there were reminders of his disgrace. “I owe you a great debt for what you've given me, Jim. You cannot possibly understand the depth of my gratitude. To give yourself so selflessly to save one of your crew... one so undeserving of intervention, after my attack on the lieutenant....” he drew a ragged breath and shuddered.

“What are you talking about? Of course you were deserving.”

Spock needed to keep himself focused or he'd never get these thoughts out. “Jim.... I must ask, for both our sakes, _why_ you would come in here. An event of great consequence has taken place, and as the fever is dying, it is time for us to make our plans concerning our future interactions. Boundaries must be defined. Retribution --”

“Retribution?! What the hell are you talking about? Spock! I thought we went over this, damnit. I love you.”

“Indeed I am aware of the declarations both parties may have made during my Time.” he flushed green. “However, I acknowledge that there were the most extenuating of circumstances....”

“Oh. My. God. You're giving me an out.”

“Captain?”

“You honestly believe I'm going to just pretend I didn't mean any of it? After I risked my life and my career to save your ass? Unbelievable.”

“Captain, as I have already indicated, I am nothing but grateful for the great risk you've put yourself through in order to... _care_ for me. However --”

“No. No howevers.” Jim crossed his arms over his chest resolutely, staring Spock down.

“... pardon?” Spock was in a whirl of confusion.

“You said you wouldn't leave me, and that's final, Mister.”

“And indeed I will not leave your side, as I have been here for you before, Captain. My loyalty toward you has only increased, certainly. I am merely attempting to define the parameters of our personal and professional relationships. It is no secret to me that prior to this ... incident... we were hardly on what would be deemed friendly terms. It would be illogical of me to harbour any expectation of shared leisure time with you past this point. However --” Jim glared at his _however_ “what you have done has allowed a permanent mental bond to form between us. While I can and will shield myself from you so as to not intrude upon your privacy, it is an unfortunate truth that the bond is indeed for life, and will call us together during my next Time.”

“ _Unfortunate_ truth?” Jim burst out angrily. “Are you _fucking kidding me?_ ”

“You are angry.” Spock said matter-of-factly, his eyes searching for some clue as to precisely why. Perhaps it was as he feared, and that Jim was only now realizing the true consequences of his actions. His heart began to sink with dread.

“Do you even _like_ me?” Jim burst out.

Spock's eyes widened. “Of course.” _I love you_. _I cherish you. I desire you. I need you more than air._

Spock did not voice these thoughts, but his controls were in tatters and the message came through clearly to Jim, whose anger evaporated at once.

“Damnit, Spock.” Jim muttered with exasperated affection. “I'm _in love_ with you. I've been obsessing over you in a quite frankly creepy way since before the _Kobayashi Maru_ hearing.” Spock's eyes widened at this information. “But you were with Uhura, and I'm not a _total_ creep. And yeah, then you kind of ruined it by bitching me out about my father and marooning me on some ice hell... but I never _really_ stopped wanting you. And now I have you. Is it totally fucked up that I want to keep you?”

“ _Jim_...” Spock breathed, his voice choked with emotion. “It is not... 'fucked up'. I, too, find I have no wish to leave you.” he leaned in to capture Jim's lips in his own in a gentle kiss.

Jim pulled away breathlessly. “Not to ruin the moment...” he said quietly, “but if we're going to do this again can I give you a hand job this time?”

Spock snorted and his lips twisted as he tried, and failed, to entirely contain a laugh. Jim gaped. He'd made Spock laugh! A laugh of his own was his response, which devolved into a small fit of giggles as Spock failed to conceal the amusement in his lips or eyes. When they'd finally settled down into a pleasant silence, Jim returned to the topic at hand.

“Did you even like me before this?” he asked seriously, somewhat hesitant to hear the answer but needing to know.

Spock seemed to contemplate his response for a while before answering. “I became aware of you when you retook my test.” he began. “From that point, I have been fascinated by you. You are intelligent, impulsive... enigmatic. I could not make sense of you. I read your files to gain insight, but the answer only eluded me further. You both fascinated and... frustrated me. That you could elicit an emotional response within me was _also_ in itself, both a fascination and a frustration. I believe it was my... frustration, which you became first acquainted with.”

“You are the king of understatement.”

“My relationship with ... Lieutenant Uhura....” His shame would not allow him to call her Nyota for the moment. He set those thoughts aside. “further complicated matters. Objectively, I believe I have always found you to be aesthetically pleasing. However, my relationship with the lieutenant prevented me from giving any real attention to the observation. Not only that, but until The Day, there was also T'Pring to complicate matters....” Spock paused, expecting a question about who T'Pring was, but Jim remained silently attentive. Spock was slightly suspicious about this, but moved on.

“In hindsight, I should have realized far earlier that our minds shared a unique affinity. It is the only sensible explanation for how you so effectively broke through my emotional shields so often, when none other had been able to do so.”

“But I guess you wouldn't have noticed, what with your loyalty to Uhura....” Jim said in quiet understanding. Spock was possibly the most loyal being he'd ever met. And now that loyalty would be focused on Jim.

“Precisely. Until this... _disaster..._ took place, I had assumed the lieutenant and I were mentally compatible, by virtue of our shared interests and similar temperaments. I was gravely mistaken. If it had not been for your bold, perhaps reckless decision to expose yourself to me, I would likely have never recognized our own mental compatibility. Your mind, Jim... was a welcome anchor amid chaos.”

“I'm not glad it had to happen this way.... But Spock, I can't be unhappy with this result.” He reached out had laced their fingers together, which temporarily distracted Spock entirely as he languidly moved his fingers against Jim's own... forward and back, pressing through and sliding over... delicious friction.... Jim retrieved his hand and Spock's eyes came back open, his breathing evening out as he noted Jim's amused smirk.

“I must admit, I am surprised.” Spock said.

“At what?”

“That you would attach yourself to another _permanently_.”

Again, Jim could sense a vague unease through the bond, and the vague allusion to Jim's notorious reputation. “Listen. I am fully aware that this bond is permanent, that you're jealous and territorial and possessive and all sorts of Vulcan-crazy, okay? So _stop worrying_. I'm not going to leave you. I'm not going to get bored. I'm not going to cheat on you. Got it?”

Spock nodded once.

“Good. Now. It's really not polite to ask for specifics generally speaking, but I'm going to just tell you so you'll stop freaking out. Before you, I'd slept with five people, Spock. Just five.”

Spock blinked in surprise, and flushed slightly in embarrassment for allowing himself to put credit to rumours.

“Number one:” Jim continued, “A girl from my high school back in Iowa. My first time was with her. We 'dated' for about two months and it wasn't very good sex and we honestly didn't even like each other that much.

“Number two: after high school, pre- Star Fleet, when I'd perfectly honed my bad-boy image the most unbelievably smokin' hot woman picked me up at a bar and took me back to her hotel room. One night stand. Don't get me wrong -- hell of a one night stand! But probably only for me, if I'm honest.

“Number three: At Star Fleet Academy, I dated this chick named Janice.” he shuddered. “Long story short, we were together for about the duration of my first semester. She was fucking crazy and creepy and the relationship didn't end on very good terms.

“Number four: Gary -- first guy I dated. Another mistake. Let's say we dated for about the length of my second semester, thus wrapping up my first year with a shitty, fucked-up bow.

“After that shit-storm, I got myself good and drunk, picked up some chick at a bar to be my fifth person. Woke up the next day with this girl in my bed that I didn't even know.... And it wasn't like the first time I had sex with a stranger. I just felt kind of pathetic about it, especially with my goal staring me right in the face -- my uniform on the floor, my books on the desk. I kind of figured I had to get my priorities straight and stop sticking my dick in the crazy. After that, I honestly wasn't with anyone for the rest of my stay at the university.”

“Jim,” Spock said softly, caressing his face gently with the tips of his fingers. “There was no need for you to share this information with me, but I thank you for trusting me with it, and for your honesty. I apologize that I indeed had been aware of the rumours concerning your sexual exploits, and I should not have put stock in that which I did not know to be true. Be assured, this type of lapse will not happen again.”

“I know.” Jim said warmly, leaning into Spock's touch and sighing contentedly. He was suddenly so sleepy once again. And sore. And hungry. And everything else.

“Rest now, _ashaya_.” Spock sighed, looking around the room. “I will attempt to bring some semblance of order to our surroundings by the time you awake. Hopefully by then we can confirm that I am in control of myself once more, and we will need to alert the Doctor.” He was reluctant to leave what had become a small sanctuary. The idea of emerging, of interacting with others, of doing _work_ , was utterly distasteful to him. Perhaps, he pondered, he was not quite in control of his emotions and logic after all as of yet. But his mind was clearing in increments with every passing moment. He knew it would not be long now. As Jim drifted off to sleep, Spock dragged his own tired and aching body to the 'fresher and began to clean himself up.


	19. Chapter 19

Jim roused slightly when he felt curious tingles across his skin and throughout his body. As he came awake, he became aware of the Vulcan lounging on the bed beside him, tracing two fingers over his back, down his arm, around his neck, and just generally over any exposed skin. “That feels nice....” he muttered into a pillow, sprawled on his stomach. “What is that?”

“Kissing.”

“Ah.”

“Since you are awake, you should rise, _ashaya_. I have put order to my room, but the remaining areas in need of cleaning consist of the bedding and your self.”

Jim rolled over to face Spock and propped himself up on an elbow with a grin. “Are you trying to tell me that I stink, Mr. Spock?”

“As you say.”

He snickered. “Well _gee_ , I wonder whose fault _that_ is.” he said sarcastically, but his words had no real bite to them. He sat up and gingerly stood from the bed, shuffling stiffly toward the head. He groaned slightly and Spock rushed to escort him, a steadying arm around his waist. “I'll be alright, Spock. No need to baby me.” he teased.

“Yes, Captain.” Spock replied, not moving away an inch until Jim was safely in the shower and leaning against the wall for support. Only then did he allow himself to retreat to the bedroom and dispose of all the soiled bedding, hastening to replace it with fresh. He had even lit some fresh incense during his earlier cleaning session and slowly but surely the overpowering scent of sex in the room was dissipating. He would be glad to retrieve his fragile belongings from storage and put the memory of _pon farr_ out of his mind to some degree. While there were good memories mixed with the bad, his lack of control was deeply uncomfortable. And while Jim had enjoyed much of what had transpired, Spock could not totally forgive himself for the way that he had _taken_ Jim, uncaringly, without the tenderness that he could offer when in his right mind. Well, he would have to make it up to his mate.

He moved to the replicator and keyed in requests for a large amount of food and drink for them to share and set it on the bedside table. Spock had already eaten once during his cleaning session, for the first time in days. As like all Vulcans, during the course of _pon farr_ he'd found himself utterly unable to eat. He'd managed to feed Jim a handful of times during brief windows of lucidity, because the human would require food where a Vulcan would not. But he himself was only now becoming hungry. As the fever wore off, he now found himself utterly ravenous.

 

Jim leaned against the wall of the shower, the water kicked up a notch hotter than he usually liked it. It felt good to just let the hot spray beat some of the soreness out of his overtaxed muscles. It stung a bit where it hit a bruise, a scrape, or a bite mark. It also felt utterly delicious to finally get clean. Toward the end of Spock's Time, he'd gone into a bit of a haze and hadn't noticed physical discomforts any more. But now that he'd finally had time to rest, he felt a renewed urge to refresh himself. The crisis was over, and it was safe for him to admit to himself that he was exhausted. Slowly, he gathered enough energy to wash himself thoroughly. And while he hadn't eaten enough over the past week to properly use the toilet, he managed to evacuate most of the residual mess -- enough to make him feel himself again for the most part. He brushed his teeth for the first time in a week, had his first opportunity to shave. By the time he moved back into Spock's room, towel around his hips, he was feeling more like himself than he had in days. And when his eyes landed on the platter of food Spock was already gorging himself on, his face lit with a grin.

“Feeling better?” he asked, glad to see the Vulcan finally eating something.

“Indeed. I believe I was correct in my assertion that our last fornication was the last necessary act required at this time. I am aware of my physical temperature decreasing back to its norm, my hormone levels are dissipating, and my time sense has returned to me. Although, it will likely still be several days until my mental controls are back in place as they should be. I do not believe I am yet recovered enough to successfully meditate at this time.”

“That's great, Spock. It sounds like you're getting better. See? We made it through alright.” he smiled, helping himself to the various foodstuffs spread before them. “So if it's over, is it safe to call Bones? I'm sure he's ready to have a fit by this point, between worrying about us and being left in charge of the ship.”

“He is third in command. I see no reason for him to be discontent with his responsibilities.”

Jim snickered. “Ah, but Spock, _he's a doctor, not a damned starship captain!”_

Spock's eyes twinkled with amusement. “Indeed. Then I will be pleased for the doctor to tend to your injuries.”

Jim glanced over Spock's neat robe. “I guess I should get some clothes on.” He snatched up a bagel and headed toward the shared bathroom. He could finally unlock the quarantine on Spock's quarters. The Vulcan himself did not have access to the codes that would do so, as a safety precaution. “Call Bones while I find something to put on.” he called over his shoulder.

“Affirmative.”

 

 

“Spock to sickbay.”

“Jesus H. Christ. It lives!”

Spock was not surprised to hear the voice of Doctor McCoy. He would no doubt have handed control of the ship over to anyone he could justify foisting it upon in order to hide in his sickbay and monitor their life signs. “It is impolite to refer to a sentient being with an identified gender as 'it', Doctor.”

“Damnit you hobgoblin, I'll call you some other choice words if I see fit. What's your status?”

“The fever has dissipated, as no doubt your sensors are telling you. The Captain has gone to his quarters to retrieve some personal items, and requires minor medical attention.”

“I'll come to you.” he grumbled. “McCoy out.”

 

 

 

Kirk stood in front of his closet for a moment hesitantly, staring at his clothes. He'd checked with his personal computer and was astounded to learn that he'd been in there with Spock for eight days counting today. The week was a total blur, and he'd been nude for so long, living in a dreamlike haze, that it almost seemed unreal to don his uniform once more. Well, surely Bones would insist he be off duty for a few days to recover. No need to put on his uniform just yet. Instead, he threw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and padded back to the next room and to Spock.

He sat down shyly on the bed, feeling awkward now that they were both clothed and the crisis had ended.

“The doctor is on his way.” Spock stated plainly, seeming at ease as they ate in silence for a few moments more.

Bones burst into the room in a flurry of activity and expletives. “The two of you are going to send me to an early grave!” he declared, running his tricorder first at Spock with a paranoid eye, and then quickly switching to Jim as he sought evidence of injury, not trusting the long distance sensors one bit. Hell, not even trusting his tricorder fully. He jabbed Kirk quickly with one hypo, then another.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” Jim pouted, rubbing his neck.

“The first one was to replace some electrolytes. You're dehydrated and malnourished. I removed all restrictions from your meal card already, so make the most of it. Consider it your wedding gift.” he groused.

“What's the other shot for?”

“Antibiotics.”

“Antibiotics?! Why? I'm not sick!”  
“Because you'll _get_ sick if your _shit_ gets into the tears of your rectum.” he said bluntly, causing both Jim and Spock to colour slightly with the implication. “Now get out of them damned clothes so I can do my job.”

“I just put them on!” Jim whined, but complied, giving in to Bones' deadly scowl.

Bones continued to grouse as he ran a dermal regenerator over some of the various scrapes and bruises Jim had sustained, but when he reached the bite mark on the neck, Spock gave a low growl Jim stopped him.

“Not that one! I like that one.”

Bones glanced between the two of them grumbling, and moved on to a different mark. Jim shot Spock a triumphant grin. “I'm going to pretend I'm not irreversibly traumatized by you two and your weird fetish. Now turn around and bend over the bed so I can deal with the real damage.”

Jim felt the blood rise to his face as he became hopelessly embarrassed. “I feel fine. Nothing's torn.”

“Damnit, Jim, I'm a doctor. Now get over the damned bed before I have your Vulcan boyfriend manhandle you over it _again_.”

Jim made a choked sound and turned an even deeper shade of red, but let Bones do his work efficiently and without complaint. Finally, the ordeal was over, and Jim rushed to re-clothe himself and cling to what little dignity he had left.

“As far as I'm concerned, physically you should be fine. We pulled in to New Vulcan two days ago and have been waiting for you two to emerge from your cave. I'm no expert on Vulcan mind voodoo, but Ambassador Sarek is on board and he wants to see _both_ of you _ASAP_! You two can explain this clusterfuck to him yourselves. He's brought along a mind healer, and I want you both to be at least looked at before I sign off on either of you being fit for duty. I'm no expert on Vulcan mind voodoo, so I'll be asking Stolic myself to confirm that you're both whatever qualifies as 'okay' when your brain's been irreversibly scrambled. Until then, you're off duty.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Spock said formally, before Jim could get a word in edgewise. “May I inquire what exactly has been told to the crew regarding our status?”

Bones' gruff exterior softened. “They were aware you were in some way ill. They are also aware that Uhura came in here and left injured, but for her sake I managed to discourage any uncomfortable questions, at least as far as they'd be directed toward her. And they're aware that Jim's been in here.” He shifted his attention to Jim. “I'm not gonna lie, it's awkward. I've spent as much time _off_ of that damned bridge as I can justify, because I haven't been sure what to tell them to boost morale that wouldn't create an interplanetary incident. You two'll have to come up with your own explanation.” Bones at least had the good graces to look slightly guilty at leaving them with that.

“It's all right, Bones.” Jim said softly. “It's our problem; it's our cross to bear. We'll sort it out.” he gave an encouraging smile to his new bondmate, who was doing a poor job of concealing his own feelings of guilt and embarrassment. Then Kirk grinned. “I'll just tell them Spock and I were fucking like bunnies for a week and morale will soar!”

“Captain!” he snapped reproachfully, only to elicit pleased giggles from his bondmate. Spock was uncertain whether his illogical mate had lightened the mood or annoyed him further.

“I've got a sickbay to run.” Bones interjected, gathering his things. “Are you gonna play nice and speak to Sarek and Stolic or do I have to send them to you?”

Spock only looked mulish but Jim promised “We'll be good.”

_Really, t'hy'la. You choose now of all times to behave?_

_Hey! Spock! You're in my brain!_

_“_ I'll be checking up on you.” Bones eyed the two warily, sure that some funny business was going on between them, and saw himself out.

“That was neat! Are you still in there?”

“T'hy'la, I am always 'in there'. We are bonded.”

“What colour am I thinking of?” he asked skeptically.

“...blue.” he said wearily, suppressing a sigh.

“Holy shit!” Jim exclaimed with excited delight. “Which one now?”

“Jim, it is still blue. Should we proceed to visit my father?”

“Yeah, I guess. This kind of kills chess for us, doesn't it?” he teased, slipping on Spock's shower sandals, as Spock scowled but made no intervention. He simply donned his own boots with his meditation robe, not feeling inclined to don his uniform, and wanting to dispense with this uncomfortable visit as quickly as possible.

“T'hy'la, I humoured you one time with that game when you forced it upon me in the rec room and you were already terrible. Do not blame our bond.”

“That was one game! You didn't even give me a second chance. I demand a rematch with no mind tricks.”

Spock refrained from sighing as they made their way down the hall. “Very well.”

_He's totally going to cheat, I just know it..._

_I am not going to cheat._

_Wait, you're still in here?_

 


	20. Chapter 20

Stolic opened the door in answer to the chime, and took in the sight of a Vulcan in an inappropriately casual meditation robe with _leather boots_ of all things, and an unkempt human in sweats and sandals. He blinked once, slowly, at the image before him. “You must be Commander Spock.” His gaze shifted once more to take in the human. _This is a starship captain?_ “Captain Kirk.”

“Indeed.” Spock said without preamble, and Jim grinned.

Stolic stepped aside, allowing the pair to enter the chambers shared between himself and the ambassador. Sarek himself was seated behind a desk at the far end of the room, and he rose at once as his son and the captain entered the room.

“Spock.”

“Father.”

There was a pregnant pause, and Jim thought he could cut the tension with a knife. Vulcans. He grinned. “Ambassador, Healer.” he nodded in a friendly way.

“Captain.” Sarek acknowledged him, and turned to move his desk chair over to the small seating area of a love-seat style couch and plush chair. Stolic took the plush chair, and the bondmates moved in tandem to seat themselves on the couch.

“I suppose congratulations are in order for your bonding, Spock.” Sarek said at length.

Spock tried not to flinch under the gaze of his father. What must he be thinking? Sarek, who approved of _nothing_ , had seemed to approve of Nyota. And now there was this. Spock told himself _kaiidth_ but could not find the heart to invest in the concept. What is, is -- but right now, what he _wanted_ was to leave this room.

“Thank you, Sarek!” Jim effused with a smile, putting the Vulcans on edge with his emotionalism.

 _You are doing this intentionally_. Spock admonished.

_Nonsense._

_“_ Or should I call you dad now? I mean, you're my father in law, right?”

“Unnecessary.” Sarek said flatly, with a look that said _if you do such a thing, I may be forced to use violence upon you._

Jim stifled a laugh.

“Spock.” Sarek ignored the captain. “I am gratified that your Time has been endured successfully, without significant injury to yourself or your mate.”

Spock coloured in shame. Himself and his mate, perhaps, but what of his intended....

“Although I must confess to some confusion regarding the current state of affairs.” Sarek did not ask, but the question was plain.

Spock searched his mind for a way to avoid this very personal confession, but he could find no suitable excuse. “Indeed.” He almost sighed. His mental control was completely decimated after his ordeal. Spock flailed mentally for some strength and was surprised when a surge of protectiveness and caring raced through him, sent by Jim. His eyes widened slightly as he glanced to his right, but Jim gave no outward indication of the show of solidarity. Spock sent back a slight wave of gratitude. He was astonished that this psi-null human could grasp the fundamentals of their bond so quickly, as well as that Jim would support him so selflessly after all he'd already endured.

Spock took a breath. “I had initially intended to bond with Lieutenant Uhura.” Sarek nodded. “She came to me at the appropriate time. I admit that my memory of the event is... unclear.” Spock shifted uncomfortably. “I believe there was some sort of altercation, and the lieutenant was injured.” A sharp stab of guilt and shame once more, that Jim countered with even fiercer protectiveness. “The captain -- _Jim_ \-- volunteered himself in her stead.”

“I see. Doctor McCoy has indicated to me that the lieutenant is now physically well.”

Spock nodded. “That is my understanding. As my Time has only just ended... I have not had an opportunity to inquire after her health personally, or in any great detail.”

Jim felt a wave of his own guilt at the admission. He was the captain of this ship, and Uhura was a member of his crew. He recalled her panicked call to the bridge with clarity, and wondered whether he should have asked Bones for more details during his check-up moments before.

“Stolic has already seen to the lieutenant as we awaited your recovery. He has assured that there was no damage done to her mind during the struggle. It is unfortunate that your Time did not go as planned. However, Spock, the _pon farr_ is a time of chaos for all Vulcans. You cannot be faulted for your actions. Indeed, I extend my gratitude to you, Captain Kirk, for aiding my son.”

Spock was frankly shocked at his father's consolation. It was not, historically, his way.

“No thanks necessary.” Jim mumbled awkwardly.

“I must inquire whether you are fully aware what you have done. A mating bond is not a trivial matter.”

Jim let his irritation show. “With all due respect, my attitude toward Spock is not _trivial_.”

Sarek simply nodded, to some degree relieved. “Then I will be grateful.” He paused, and allowed a very un-Vulcan sigh. “Indeed, Spock, your Time is not the only which has not gone according to any plan. As I had indicated in my communications, our people are in chaos. The broken bonds and psychic shock have fuelled madness. You have not been spared in this, and neither have I.”

Spock's eyes widened fractionally. “You --”

“I am now bonded.”

Jim felt his headache reappear full force as Spock was swept in a whirl of emotions as he processed this information. Images of his mother's death flashed through his mind in a whirl of confusion and chaos as he tried to reconcile the fact that his father had already replaced her. Jim only caught fragments of thoughts and feelings from his mate, struggling to make sense of it but with no experience to tell him how to effectively use their bond. Worriedly, he snatched up Spock's hand between them, Vulcan propriety be damned, and gave a reassuring squeeze, lacing their fingers and not letting go. It was telling that Spock did not pull away.

“I see.” he said numbly.

“Her name is T'Lina. We share a small dwelling in the new colony together, though we do not regularly share rooms. You must understand, Spock.... She is no replacement for your mother.” he said softly. “T'Lina has lost her mate as I have lost mine. She has lost her three children as well. We are a broken people, and though I have often been... _proud_... I am no exception.”

Spock stared at his father searchingly, shocked by the admission of pride. Pride was not felt by Vulcans. Yet Sarek had admitted that he had.

“My Time came, and I did not wish to die, as you did not wish to die either. _Kaiidth_. I accept _c'thia_ and am ready to rebuild.” He nodded to himself, content in what he had shared. He had said what must be said, as a Vulcan and as a father. Spock could meditate on these revelations at a more opportune time. “Now, I believe we should ensure the mental health of yourself and your bondmate, and deal with more practical matters at hand.”

The attention of all in the room shifted to Stolic, who had remained silent. “I will need to meld with thee and thy mate.” he stated calmly, noting that Spock's hand tightened its grip on the hand of his captain. He was used to dealing with the aftermath of _pon farr_ , and was prepared for the territorialism that accompanied the Time, especially after one's first. “I propose a three-way meld so as to reassure you both of your place within your new bond.”

“Acceptable.” Spock said shortly, keeping a sharp watch regardless as Stolic moved his chair close to them and reached out to touch the side of each face with one of his hands.

 _Ah! Headache!_ Jim thought at him warningly as Spock's negative emotions of possessiveness and wariness whirled about.

Spock was unable to control himself for the moment, but he sent a wordless affection toward his mate instead, hoping it would soothe him.

Stolic chanted his usual mantra in _Vulkansu_ and Jim found himself aware of a third presence in his mind, other than the general vague Spock-ness floating around.

 _Hello?_ he queried with interested.

 _T'hy'la_ , Spock admonished, _This is a not a communicator. You do not need to answer with a greeting._

 _Spock!_ he shouted with delight.

 _Greetings Captain Kirk._ Stolic humoured him. _I am simply inspecting the bond for its integrity or damage, as I also view both thy minds. I will not intrude upon any personal memories._

 _How do you inspect the bond?_ He thought wonderingly. _Can you see it? Where is it?_ He was aware only of a vague blackness around him, as one sees nothing in particular when they space out, lost in thought. Jim tried to focus, but he saw nothing, could do nothing on this mental plane. He only had a sense of the others, as one knows when they're not alone when in a dark room. He could tell when he was being looked at, as the sensation of one reading over his shoulder, but he had only these vague impressions to guide him.

 _You cannot see it?_ Stolic focused more on what Jim was seeing. _Ah, fascinating. He is as a child._ He said with a sort of detached interest. _Forgive my comparison, Captain, but I have not melded with a human before. Perhaps in time your mate can teach you some basic techniques._

Jim's excitement whirled in the 'direction' of Spock with an unspoken question. He was curious and excited by the idea of learning this unknown landscape.

 _Very well_. he said with the exasperation one gives to a small child, but he found Jim's enthusiasm to be appealing. _I will teach you what I can_.

 _I do not know what a human's perception of a bond may be like, Spock._ Stolic interjected. _Or whether he will ever develop sufficient shielding, for example. Perhaps it is a question best posed to your father. What I can observe, however, is that your minds share a remarkable affinity. This bond is healthy, and one of the strongest I have encountered._

Spock's surprise and pleasure filtered through the shared mind-space. For once, he felt that he had somehow succeeded in being Vulcan, ironically with an illogical human to whom he'd been bonded by pure chance. His controls had been weak, his shielding insufficient for one of his kind. He had only assumed that his bond would be weak as well -- some botched approximation of what one should be. To hear the Healer admit so unreservedly, so dispassionately that it was strong, was bolstering. An illogical portion of his mind also thought _of course it is strong; this is my mate_. The admission did not broadcast into the shared space, but he did press feelings of _pride_ and _possession_ across to Jim, who basked in the sensation.

After so many years of rejection and loneliness, Jim drank in the affection eagerly. He 'leaned' into the mental caress as a cat starved for attention, and the bond vibrated pleasantly with shared contentment and affection.

Stolic knew well the desperate need of affection that would follow a good bonding, and felt himself to be intruding upon a tender moment. He did not linger further, having obtained the information he required.

Jim gasped as the sensation suddenly dulled to the background, the bright room coming to meet him as Stolic's hands dropped away.

“The bond is healthy, as are the minds of thy sons.” Stolic informed Sarek formally.

“It is well.” he nodded. “James T. Kirk, you are now of my House and are officially a citizen of New Vulcan. You are welcome in my residence, and have the protection of my Clan. I welcome thee.”

“Uhm... thanks?” Jim said dumbly, mentally kicking himself and wondering what he should have said instead.

“If you require us no further, we will take our leave.” Spock said plainly.

Sarek rose in agreement to bid his sons goodbye, Jim following suit of the other Vulcans in the room. Sarek flashed the ta'al. “Be well, Spock.”

“And you, father.”

“You are welcome to visit the surface while you are here, and meet T'Lina if you wish. If you do not wish it at this juncture, it is understandable.”

“I will keep it in mind.” He made his way to the door, Jim in tow, and bid a final formal farewell as they made their way back down the hall.


	21. Chapter 21

“Well that wasn't so bad.” Jim grinned as he lead the way into his own quarters, Spock in tow this time.

“It was not unpleasant.”

Jim made a bee-line to his replicator and started testing out Bones' word that his meal restrictions had been lifted. He keyed in the code for a sundae from memory. “You want anything?”

Spock eyed the personal replicator with some distrust, uncertain of whether he'd want the sort of things Jim would eat. “What are you having?”

“Ice cream.” he grinned, taking a big bite of said object and basically fellating the spoon, eyes closed in bliss. “ _Mmm_. Oh god, it's been so long!” He opened his eyes and looked at Spock with excitement. “Want to share?”

Spock moved over to inspect the treat with suspicion. “Are you certain this is ice cream? I once had ice cream and it did not contain so much....” He was at a loss for how to describe the various textures and colours adorning the treat. “What exactly _is_ all of that?”

Jim giggled with glee, getting Spock an extra spoon and heading them over to his couch to share the ginormous confection. “That's vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, peanut butter syrup... those candies are M&Ms... they're a candy-coated chocolate. The coloured bits are sprinkles. They're ah... I think they're just sugar, really. Sugar and magic. There are some peanuts in there. Cherries. And whipped cream, obviously.” He helped himself to another bite of the treat.

“And all of this sugar is .... pleasant?”

“It's _more_ than pleasant, Spock! Are you kidding me? You've never had anything like this?”

“Negative.” Spock dug in and brought the spoon to his mouth. He'd had a vanilla ice cream cone once before, and found the treat to be overly sweet but entirely uninspiring. In this bite, at this time with his controls completely shot, he found his brain temporarily short-circuiting at the pleasure. He was utterly low on glucose after his prolonged fasting period and his increase in psychic activity. And the chocolate, an intoxicant he normally avoided, now simply put him at ease. His controls and emotions were a mess anyway. What was the logic in fighting it?

Jim smiled at the pleasure he felt floating over the bond. “Like it, don't you?” he accused teasingly.

“Affirmative.” Spock clipped back with stoic affect that did nothing to hide his emotions from his mate.

Jim simply giggled and continued gorging himself on his favourite treat, pleased to be sharing this small moment of unreserved affection with his new bondmate. Permanent bondmate. He was happy. For the first time in his life, Jim Kirk felt _nothing_ other than happy.

“Man, wait 'til I show you cotton candy. And pixie sticks. Your brain's going to explode.”

 


	22. Chapter 22

“Hey Spock?”

“Jim?”

They were still in casual clothes, lounging side by side in Jim's bed. Spock held a PADD in his hands and was deftly scrolling through over a week's worth of communications that had had to be set aside for himself or Jim while they were otherwise occupied -- things that McCoy didn't have the authority to sign off on. There was a lot. And while McCoy had declared both were off duty, they were the best two hackers on the ship and both obsessed with their responsibility, so had easily sidestepped the holds on their accounts. Spock had been navigating the jungle of paperwork for just over an hour now with Jim at his side, sharing the PADD as he signed off when needed. Spock, for his part, was glad to have something to occupy his mind and bring him back to reality, especially in privacy as he slowly came back to himself. Jim was just glad for someone to be taking care of it, cuddling his new mate as his attention wandered.

“How do you want to do this now?” Jim queried.

“Do what now?” Spock asked distractedly.

“I mean like... are we a couple? Are we married? Do we tell the crew? Should we file this with Starfleet? And what about our rooms?”

“Our rooms?” Spock faltered with what he was doing, his attention slowly sliding to Jim's incomprehensible questions.

“Yeah. I mean, do you want to you know... sleep together?”

Spock froze. “I had not considered it.”

“Well consider it now. You're a fast thinker. What do you want?”

“I -- I will need to meditate on it.” Spock felt a confusing whirl of both logic and emotions competing for attention in his own mind. They were bondmates but they'd barely shared conversations previously. Now they shared a permanent mental link. Should they share a bed? Now that _pon farr_ had ended, it was not _necessary_ but....

“What do you mean you'll need to meditate on it!” Jim threw his hands up in exasperation, flopping back against his pillow and staring at the ceiling.

Spock peered down at his mate. “You are upset.”

“You make me crazy.” Jim accused.

“It is unlikely that either of us has been driven to madness, Jim, given that we have both just been seen by a mind healer.”

Jim made a frustrated choking sound and flailed his hands again. Spock waited for further elaboration, but apparently Jim considered such gesticulations to be sufficient communication.

“I see.” he said in response.

“Do you?”

“... not really.” he admitted with some slight distress.

Jim sighed. “Spock.”

“Jim.”

“It was _your_ _pon farr._ What do you want to tell the crew?” The headache again. “Ow! Goddamn! Okay, we're gonna definitely need to do those lessons the healer talked about if I'm gonna get a headache every time you get pissy. You get pissy a lot.” he sulked, rubbing his temple.

“Apologies.” Spock was silent a moment as he struggled to think clearly and contain his distress. “I find myself unable to formulate a sufficient response. I do not know how to handle the crew. I do not know how to handle our bonding. I have not had time to meditate. I do not believe I even _can_ meditate until my biology is functioning fully back at standard levels, and frankly I am annoyed and upset that you keep pressing me on this.” His voice had risen as he had given way to a bout of emotionalism. Now he flushed green in shame or anger, he was not certain which, for himself at his outburst and toward Jim for pressing the issue.

Jim simply blinked. “Oh. Okay.... Well. I think we should file our bond with Starfleet.” he offered, to get the ball rolling. It was not lost on Spock that Jim was not letting the conversation drop. He felt no remorse about Jim's headache now. Still, he tried to focus on the task at hand as Jim continued. “New Vulcan already recognizes the bond, and we're supposed to report changes in relationship status to Starfleet, plus when you and Uhura were going to bond I got the memo about not separating bonded pairs. Seems kind of relevant now.”

“Agreed.” he admitted. “It is logical.”

“Okay. So if we're reporting it, the crew is bound to find out something. We don't have to tell them about your Time. The important thing is that you were ill, and now you're well. We'll at least tell them that much, if Bones hasn't already.” Spock nodded his agreement.

“The only thing is that they know something happened with you and Uhura....” he pulled on his lower lip in thought as he tried to see all angles of the situation. “And they'll probably find out about our bonding one way or another, soon enough. Hm.”

Spock was back to openly ignoring him now, his attention back on his PADD as he clicked through emails and signed off on mountains of trivial documents. Jim didn't seem to mind that he was essentially talking to himself.

“I guess we can only let Uhura say what she wants to about the situation. But best to be somewhat honest, and say that in the process of whatever happened, we're bonded now. And then we'll just act like that's normal and hope everybody rolls with it.”

Spock diverted his attention back to Jim from sheer annoyance. “Is that not incredibly suspicious? Surely the crew's intelligence is high enough to wonder at how my illness could lead to our bonding, to wonder what happened between myself and Nyota, to wonder why we diverted our course to come to the colony, to wonder at the change in our interactions with one another.”

“Well _yeah_ they'll wonder about it, but that doesn't mean they'll _ask_ about it, or act weird.”

“I do not understand.”

“We're all just a bunch of illogical humans, Spock. If we indicate that the information is private, then I don't think anyone will press. Not only do they want to avoid making you, me, and Uhura feel awkward about something, but _they_ wouldfeel awkward for asking.”

“You are correct. You are all illogical.” he shook his head in bewilderment.

“The _point_ is that they'll know questions will make you feel uncomfortable, so they won't ask.” Jim affectionately laced his fingers in Spock's own, trapping his hand away from his PADD. He relinquished the device with a huff rather than trying to extricate his hand.

“I am concerned, nonetheless, that their silent judgements will interfere with our professional interaction.”

“Isn't it illogical to worry?” Jim teased.

“Is now really the time to call attention to my lack of control?” Spock pulled his hand away from Jim as punishment and folded his arms across his chest sulkily.

“Hey....” Jim soothed. “I'm on _your_ side here.” He pet the side of Spock's arm wit the back of his fingers. “Look, they like you, and they like me, and they like Uhura. As long as we continue to do our work and just be generally good people, I think it should be okay. I'm sorry I teased. Don't be angry....”

“ _T'hy'la_....” he sighed, loosening his tension. “I am not angry.”

 _T'hy'la_... Jim mused. _Why does everybody keep calling me that?_ His mind briefly flashed back to his meld with Spock Prime in the ice cave. He was _certain_ he'd heard the word used there, whether in his mind or in reality. He couldn't quite put his finger on _when_ , but his confidence that he'd heard it before grew every time his Spock used it. _Wonder what it means...._

Spock had gone completely still. He turned to face Jim. “Someone else has been calling you _t'hy'la_?” he asked with some distress. He felt a vague desire to rip someone's throat out, and detachedly wondered whether or not that was an extreme line of thought.

“Uhm... just the once.” Jim hedged, sensing some weird dangerous vibes coming off his mate. “What does it mean?”

Spock narrowed his eyes. “You do not even know what it means, yet you've heard it before?”

“Maybe?” Jim was starting to panic. This was not a good line of questioning. “Maybe I'm just crazy. You know, a week straight of non-stop fucking will do that to a guy. Not to mention the Vulcan mind voodoo. Uhm... so what's it mean?” He tried to redirect the conversation.

“It has three meanings.” Spock decided to humour him.

“Okay....”

“The first is friend, but you would not use it for a casual friend. The second is brother, but not a brother by blood... more, a shield-mate. The third is lover.”

Jim flushed deeply as he realized the meaning behind the term of endearment Spock had been using for him. He flushed even more deeply as he realized that Spock Prime had called him the same, and he drew his own conclusions about why that might be. His eyebrows rose slightly at the implication.

“Oh.”

“The word very clearly encompasses all three meanings when it is used. Not only that, but it translates roughly in Standard to _soulmate._ It implies a very rare type of bond -- one between two perfectly compatible minds that will unintentionally bond regardless of action between the two parties. This is what I feel for you, Jim, and I would like to know who has been calling you such.” His tone had dropped to a low timbre that would be sexy if it weren't so dangerously unnerving in this moment.

“N-no one.”

“Mm. I find I do not believe you, Jim.”

Jim made an incoherent sound of panic and his eyes darted around. His mind whirled with thoughts of _Don't think about him don't think about him Spock is a telepath shit shit_

And of course Spock was easily able to see a flash of his elder self in Jim's mind. His eyes widened. “When did you meet him?” he demanded.

“Who?” A jumble of panic and more thoughts of his first meeting with Prime flashed through his mind.

“Do not lie to me!” Spock was sitting up very straight now, turned to fully face Jim and demanding answers. “You will explain this to me.”

“Shit, Spock. Look, you'll just have to trust me --”

“I will do no such thing when you harbour secrets. I cannot believe this! The audacity of him to use such terms....” He shook his head in frustration. “You are _mine_.” He reached out and grabbed Jim's bicep, holding him tightly enough to bruise and gave a small shake. “I will not have my elder self claiming that which is not his own.”

“Your -- you -- I -- what?” Jim's brain broke. “You _know about him?”_

“...indeed.” Spock said warily, wondering at Jim's new swirl of emotions.

“He told me not to tell you!” Jim threw his hands in the air wildly. When he spoke to Old Spock he was going to give a piece of his mind, that was for _damned_ sure. “That sneaky son of a bitch!”

“My mother was not --”

“It's a saying, Spock. I can't _believe_ this!”

“So you were not trying to deceive me?” he asked, still wary, still not relinquishing his possessive grasp of his mate.

“No. No, Spock. Not at all. Hell, if you already know about him, ask me anything you want.”

“I would see your interactions with him if you would allow it.” He released his death grip and raised his hand tentatively. Although they'd shared mind-space throughout the _pon farr,_ it had been through their growing bond, or through vague, hazy surface melds. This intimacy was not one they had yet shared alone, and Spock was uncertain how Jim would react to the request.

“A meld?”

“If you are comfortable.”

“Of course I'm comfortable.” Jim reassured him. “I _want_ to do it.” He leaned in to the touch without hesitation.

Spock felt a surge of pleasure at the trust his new mate gave him unreservedly, and he let himself finally taste the fullness of Jim's mind. It was a wonder when he found himself alone there, his essence totally suffused with that which was _Jim_. He drank it in like a starving man -- here alone, without a healer to witness his exploration.

_Spock!_

Spock smiled in this place at how delighted Jim was whenever he sensed his presence. _Jim_. He sent his own wave of warmth and greeting.

 _I like it when you're here._ Again Jim was mentally 'rubbing' against him, starved for affection and attention, taking in Spock's presence as much as Spock did to him.

_I enjoy our time as well, t'hy'la. With your permission, I will access your memories now._

_Okay. Do I have to do --_ And then Jim was swept back into the ice cave, seeing an instant replay of every interaction he'd had with Prime with perfect clarity -- clarity of memory he hadn't even known he'd possessed. It all seemed to happen so quickly, a well, in perfect detail but in fast motion, yet still totally comprehensible to the observer -- Spock. Jim knew the magic of this type of sharing, the tremendous information dump he'd had on Delta Vega over the span of mere seconds. So it was here, an overwhelming whirlwind of motion and emotion that left him gasping at the end when Spock's hand finally dropped.

They stared at each other for a moment, Spock looking surprised but composed, and Jim gasping in desperation as his heart raced. He shuddered, recalling the 'emotional transference' of his first meld, and found that although there was no such transference here, he was uncomfortable and emotional and distressed. Spock sensed his disquiet and stroked his hair and psi-points carefully, murmuring soothing words Jim couldn't quite make out. He leaned into his mate's touch almost desperately as he slowly came back to himself.

“I apologize.” Spock said. “You are unused to melding and my actions overwhelmed you. I will teach you techniques to better manage in time, and will act more carefully in the future.” He trailed more Vulcan kisses across Jim's face.

“ 's okay.” he mumbled. “It wasn't as bad as the first one, anyway. So did you find what you wanted? Are you mad?”

Spock sighed. “I am not angry, _ashaya_. Not at you, at least. I suspect from all I have seen that my counterpart had bonded with yours, and I suspect his use of such a word was unintentional. I am pleased to know he has not been in my competition. You are mine.” he said possessively.

Jim smiled gently. “Don't worry, Spock. I never thought about him like that anyway. I just liked him, in general. He always seemed so at ease with me. He always seemed to just _like_ me, genuinely.”

“As he should. Who would dislike you?” Spock said with Vulcan dignity, in a tone that implied _whoever dislikes my bondmate is highly illogical._

 _“_ So. Since you know about him, is it okay if we visit while we're here?” Jim grinned. “I _was_ trying to think of a way to sneak off and do it while you were busy but since the universe evidently _won't_ end if you meet yourself....”

“Acceptable.”

“Want to go now? It's almost lunch time.” Jim said with some excitement, bounding off the bed to his feet.

“Only if we put on more dignified clothes. I will not have us in public in such casual dress. A trip down a hall is one thing but I have my limits.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jim was already throwing his t-shirt to the floor and hooking his thumbs into the band of his pants. “Can I wear one of your Vulcan robe things?”

“... very well.”

“Awesome. I always wanted to try one.”


	23. Chapter 23

Spock Prime opened his door and widened his eyes at the sight before him.

“SURPRISE!” Jim shouted his is face, lifting his arms triumphantly. He was dressed in traditional Vulcan garb, something Spock had not seen on his own captain in countless years, and never with such youthful exuberance. His lips turned up in a muted smile in spite of himself at the sight in front of him, made only more vivacious by its juxtaposition with Jim's stoic Vulcan companion standing rigidly by his side.

“Jim.” he said warmly. “It is good to see you again. Spock, you as well. Won't you both come in from the heat?” He stepped aside neatly to allow them both entrance to his small abode.

“Guess what? We're married!” Jim announced without further delay.

Prime's eyebrow climbed to his hairline as he took the information in. “While I am not surprised, I will admit to considerable curiosity as to how this occurred.”

Jim glanced to his mate who was completely unreadable. Spock was distinctly uncomfortable visiting his elder counterpart, for reasons he did not fully understand. Jim picked up on the unease but wasn't certain of its source, so he decided not to say too much. “I'm just awesome.” He grinned.

“Indeed.” the elder Spock agreed, seating himself as his guests made themselves comfortable in his small sitting room.

“So did you get _pon farr_ too?”

“It is not a disease.” young Spock interrupted testily. “One does not _get_ _pon farr_ , they go through it, or more accurately are subjected to it.”

Jim hurtled on. “Spock got it, Sarek got it, apparently the whole colony is secretly in chaos. The things you learn once you're in the secret circle.”

“Jim, there is no secret circle.” his bondmate admonished him.

“Oh there _so is_.” Jim retorted.

Elder Spock's lips quirked with amusement. It was gratifying to see the two of them together, and something very tense and cold inside of him warmed at the sight. He'd been considerably worried ever since Jim had made his call so many days ago, wondering whether the pair would find their way without intervention, wondering whether their own journey would be as fraught with peril as his own had been. That they would have so many extra years together was immensely pleasing, especially considering how much the two of them had already lost.

“Indeed I have not been so afflicted.” he finally spoke up.

“Huh. How come you didn't have one?” Jim asked curiously. “Everyone else seems to be.”

“Several reasons. Most importantly, I am past mating age, and am no longer afflicted by such a Time in general.”

Jim blinked. “Oh. So what like... you can't....” he waved his hand a little.

“I assure you I can. When a human woman goes through menopause, she does not become incapable of sex. Indeed, I could likely still have children if I so chose. I am simply old enough such that my cycle seems to have ceased some years ago.”

“Oh.” Jim said simply, mulling that over.

“Additionally, the premature mating drives affecting my people of late is due to the psychic shock induced by the severance of so many bonds at once, and in particular the loss of one's mate. I am not similarly affected by the loss of this universe's  _T'Khasi_ . While the time has been trying, I find my previous training in the disciplines of the  _Kolinahr_ have been invaluable in controlling my difficulties.”

“You trained in the  _Kolinahr_ ? But did not become  _Kolinahru?_ ” Spock asked with some surprise.

“Indeed. It was a lifetime ago, and though it was not ultimately my path, the lessons remain invaluable. It is one of many things I now work to preserve, such that the knowledge is not lost.”

“Fascinating.”

“What's fascinating? What's the  _Kolinahr?”_ Jim asked impatiently, feeling left out.

“It is a rather extreme training.” Prime answered. “Resulting ultimately in the full purging of one's emotions.”

Jim looked horrified. “Why the hell would you want to do that?” he threw up his hands.

“I had considered the discipline myself.” younger Spock admitted, curious about the parallels in their lives.

“What? Why?” Jim demanded. Before he could answer he interjected with a scolding finger pointed at his chest. “Don't do that. You'd better leave those emotions right where they are, Mister.”

“Yes, Jim.” Spock answered dutifully. “You will note that I ultimately did not choose such a path for myself. There is no cause for concern.”

“Good.” Jim nodded resolutely. “I like you how you are.”

Spock coloured slightly at the overly emotional public declaration, but his counterpart seemed unaffected. His own Jim had cured him of Vulcan propriety years ago. “I am gratified to see you together, and evidently well.” he admitted aloud.

“Yourself and your own captain --” Spock began, uncertain whether it was proper to ask.

Elder Spock only nodded. “I have come to believe it is a constant in all universes, that where there is a Jim Kirk, there is a Spock at his side.”

Spock found that disquieting, personally. He was not interested in notions of pre-destination and chose not to dwell overly on the implications of what his counterpart had said.

“Aww.” Jim smiled at his mate. “So we  _are_ soul-mates,  _t'hy'la_ .”

Spock suppressed a pleasant shudder at hearing Jim call him that name. His eyes darkened slightly with lust, his hormones still not fully returned to normal, and now with chocolate running through his system.

Jim shuddered unrestrainedly at the wave of lust that swept through the bond.

_Not that this isn't completely hot, but I'm still sort of recovering...._ he thought affectionately

_I will attempt to control myself._

Jim grinned.  _At least for a day or two, then we can get down to something more creative than doing it caveman style. Not that I'm not into that._

_Affirmative._

Elder Spock glanced between the two of them, noting Jim's sideways glances and knowing that in their minds they conversed, and not caring. Indeed, now he could rest more easily, knowing that at least one thing had been put right in this world.

“So!” Jim brought his attention back to his friend. “It's lunchtime, right? What do you guys eat down here, anyway? I'm feeling adventurous!”


	24. Chapter 24

_Spock._

_Jim._

_You're still in here._ Jim sent _pleasure/happiness/affection_ across the bond.

“Jim that is the twenty third time today you have repeated that experiment.”

“Sorry.” Jim smiled, and at least looked slightly embarrassed. “I just like it. It's neat.”

“I suppose I should be glad you approve.” Spock retorted dryly.

The two of them were walking aimlessly through the streets of the New Vulcan colony. They'd spent a full two hours with Spock's elder counterpart with Jim enthusiastically trying the various Vulcan style dishes 'Selek' had managed to put together using a combination of traditional ingredients he'd managed to procure one way or another, things native to the new planet, and various foodstuffs that were being supplied by the Federation. All in all, it was quite familiar fare for Spock, but a new and exciting adventure for Jim. Spock had had an enjoyable time simply watching him try things, swallowing enthusiastically for some and looking absolutely nauseous for others. He was illogically pleased to learn that his Jim's palate was not identical to that of his counterpart, and so Selek was unable to fully predict the outcomes of his choices.

Now they simply wandered, taking a scenic route back to the town square and observing the general rate of progress of the new colony. Spock viewed it in a detached sort of way, thinking it surreal to see Vulcans milling about in such a place. A part of his mind could not reconcile that this was 'home' now. This was not _T'Khasi_. The landscape and the structures were unfamiliar. The sands and sun were slightly off colour. The scent was wrong. His family home, gone. His mother, gone. His father was here, in a new home, with a new wife. Negative emotions of various type threatened to bubble up and could have led somewhere truly awful if it weren't for his infantile bondmate with the attention span of a gnat. He was grateful for Jim. His incessant prodding was a relief.

“Do I have to become a vegetarian?” Jim asked suddenly.

“Illogical. Why would you?”

“I don't know. Does it bother you that I eat meat?”

“It does not.”

“Good.” Jim answered with a sigh of relief, then moved to his next question. “So you never did answer about the room situation.”

“Is this really the time and place for such a conversation?” Spock responded wearily.

“Why not?”

Spock did not have a suitable answer. “Very well. What is it you wish to know.”

“Do you want to regularly share a bed with me to sleep?”

“...I am uncertain.” he said at length.

“...oh. I kind of thought you'd say yes.” He paused in his walking, wiping some of the sweat pouring off his brow, and scooted under the shade of a building to sit down in the dust under some scant shade. Deserts, he was coming to realize, were really f-ing hot. “What are you worried about?” he asked Spock.

Spock refrained from reminding Jim that Vulcans did not worry as he joined him on the ground, neatly folding his legs under him and managing to not look like he was sitting in dirt.

“I attempted sleep with Nyota early in our relationship, and found it difficult. She moved frequently, disturbing me. She made sounds in her sleep. She often dreamed, and our skin to skin contact would result in my in some way sharing in the experience. It was disorienting and disquieting. Further, I have thus far been entirely unable to meditate while in the presence of others, which is not necessarily relevant to your query, but was relevant to Nyota's requests at the time, as I tend to meditate in the evening. As a Vulcan, I require less sleep than a human, and I spend some of the regular sleeping hours in a meditative state.

“Later, during the onset of my _pon farr_ , as a consequence of my change in biochemistry, I desired frequent contact and affection from that which I considered my mate. I did sleep with Nyota then with little difficulty, but I do not know if I could sleep next to another again once returned to my normal state. I am uncertain also as to whether my problems with Nyota were specific to her person, or would exist with any other I attempted to share a bed with.

“I understand that it is the norm for most human couples to share a bed throughout the night. Even among Vulcans I would say it is more often the norm, and had speculated that my problems with Nyota were a result of her species. The dreams, for example, would not exist for either partner in a Vulcan pair. That said, my parents did in fact share a bed regularly. I do not know whether there were problems, or whether shielding techniques on either's part solved the problems, and I find myself reluctant to ask.”

Jim was silent as Spock explained himself, and began to get a feeling of how this arrangement between them was not going to be entirely straight forward as he had hoped. He'd been in a few relationships before -- none of them extremely long term, but long enough that he was used to the regular discussions of whether they'd share quarters, shower at night or in the morning, share or not share and so forth. Spock and Nyota had seemed so easy together that he'd never really considered the difficulties that might arise due to their different species. He felt slightly ashamed that he hadn't considered it, and vowed to himself then to be more patient and understanding. “Okay. That sounds reasonable.” He brushed his fingers against Spock's subtly and affectionately. “Do you want to try it, and if it doesn’t work we'll go from there? I'd like to try. I like your company, Spock. I like waking up next to someone.” He smiled warmly.

“Very well. I will make the attempt.” He felt some of his tension ease at the promise that if it did not work, Jim would not press him, but he still held some skepticism that this would work.

“Would you be more comfortable with us sleeping in your room, because it's familiar to you, or sleeping in my room so that you can escape to your place to meditate or hide if I'm kicking too much?”

Spock answered hesitantly. “Let us try the latter. However, I request we find some medium ground where the heating is concerned, and perhaps add more blankets to your bed.”

“Sure!” Jim said brightly, encouraged that Spock wasn't totally shutting him out and was meeting him halfway in this. “We can leave all of our stuff more or less where it is, for now, so we both have our own spaces, but feel free to move things around as it's convenient for you. If my stuff's in the way feel free to just put it somewhere. I'm not picky.”

“Acceptable.”

“Hey Spock?”

“Yes, Jim.”

“Let's go back to the _Enterprise_. I think I might be getting heat exhaustion and I don't want Bones to kill me.”

“Logical.” he responded, and retrieved his communicator to request a beam up.

 

 

Back in their shared quarters, Jim helped himself to a few glasses of water and a cool shower, them flopped bonelessly on his bed, sprawled out atop his covers. Spock was seated beside him in fresh, less dusty clothes but hadn't sweated a drop in the overheated climate. He was back at his PADD as before, scrolling through what ships business he felt he could safely access without provoking the doctor. He spared an amused glance at Jim's child-like exhaustion as Jim quickly drifted into a recuperative sleep. Spock let himself, perhaps for the first time in his right mind, admire the contours of his mate's naked flesh, without the influence of the fever driving him to simply _mate_. Jim, he decided, was beautiful -- at _least_ as aesthetically pleasing as was Nyota, if not more so.

He returned to his work with half focused attention, allowing himself the luxury of rest while he had it, and feeling cautiously optimistic about his future.


	25. Chapter 25

They walked in tandem, in their not-quite-uniform blacks, down the hall and to the mess. They retrieved their food and sat where Jim had always sat, Bones joining them and grousing loudly as usual. It was their first brave step into the old routine, and while outwardly they were the same Captain and Commander they'd always been, for the first time they truly presented outwardly the vision of a united front, acting as a unit where they'd always seemed at odds. Though they gave no indication that anything was wrong, internally they leaned against one another for mutual mental strength.

Kirk returned greetings from his crew with a friendly nod and a smile. He answered any questions as to their health with assurances that they were both feeling well, that all was taken care of, and to move along now. Spock was grateful that Jim had taken the lead in this endeavour, and was relieved that no one cornered him specifically for answers. He met crew members with his own stoic nods as usual, as they escaped to their table.

Bones updated them on the general status of events while they were gone and berated them soundly for catching up on their emails, which he _had_ noticed, but had _chosen_ not to act on. Jim was grateful to his friend as he filled the strained silences with sickbay drama, voiced annoyance about every Vulcan he'd encountered at the colony, and gave general threats involving physicals and hypos. And to their credit, both Jim and Spock were able to keep up their own end of the banter, as if nothing had happened.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spock caught sight of Uhura first, before Jim or Bones had noticed her. She cautiously made her way toward their table, her expression unreadable. Only the bond alerted Jim to her approach, his attention dropping away from Bones and his eyes sliding to her steady approach as he sent wordless support to his bondmate.

 

There they were. Uhura had watched them from the entrance to the mess for a good minute or two now, just watching them sit and interact. She'd heard through the grapevine that they'd been spotted earlier that day, and she had surmised that the _pon farr_ was finally at an end. She'd known right away that she'd wanted to see them, but she hadn't been certain what she'd wanted to see. She already knew through McCoy that they weren't injured in any substantial way. Had she wanted them to be injured? No, she answered herself immediately when she asked herself the question. She couldn't reconcile why her own experience had been so vastly different, so wholly negative and violent. It would be some time before her trust of Spock was mended, she knew. But that would come in time.

No, she didn't wish them ill. She just wanted to know, to see. She needed to see them in front of her, to see them as themselves, to see them interact with one another, for her to try and make sense of what had happened. To make it real. To make it so that this wasn't some strange dream she was unable to discuss with anyone, her bridge shifts haunted and tense as both Captain and Commander were missing due to a mysterious affliction. And now, here they were.

It was funny, she supposed. She hadn't thought that Spock had even _liked_ Jim before now. But as she watched them from across the room, she saw their easy camaraderie, even through Spock's stoic shell. She knew him well and she wasn't blind. She saw the syncopation of their movements, the quirked eyebrow Spock gave when he was secretly amused at something Jim had said. She saw the slightly lesser degree of tension in his stiff posture -- something so subtle that she was certain no one other than herself would detect it. But she knew that it meant Spock was at ease. Seeing him content, and content _without her_... released a tight ball of tension she'd been carrying in her gut for weeks. She was startled to realize it was so. In spite of her guilt, her anger, her fears and frustrations over this whole event, Spock was okay. Truly okay.

She'd wanted to save him, both as a friend and as a compassionate being. But here he was not only alive, but well. Even when she'd known that Kirk had taken her place to save his life, she'd worried. She'd worried that she'd abandoned what they'd had in some way. That she'd really screwed this one up by getting herself out of there. She'd wondered if the problem had been something she'd done, and wondered whether Spock would ever forgive her for leaving him to bond himself permanently to another. To someone she didn't even know if he liked.

And now she knew that Spock _did_ like Jim. She didn't know why or how. She didn't care. His easy affect was answer enough. And if Spock could be truly okay after this ordeal, so could Nyota. For the first time in weeks, she really _was_ okay. She realized in that moment that she was a free woman, free of tethers, free of past drama, free of life or death decisions to be made too soon. She was in her twenties, on the best starship Starfleet had to offer, with her career bursting with potential and promise. So she strode to their table, for this one last closure.

 

“Spock. Captain.” she acknowledged them.

“Lieutenant.” Spock answered stiffly, the tension in his shoulders returned, as he tried to prevent Jim from experiencing a sympathetic headache.

Uhura took a deep breath and released it, dispelling some of the growing tension. “I'm glad to see you're well.” she said, looking at Spock, then shifting her attention to encompass Jim as well. “Both of you.”

Spock's eyes softened. “I am gratified for your health as well, Uhura.” For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to say more. He felt as if he should. He felt as if he should explain to her how he'd never wanted anything bad to happen. He wanted to explain what it was _like_ to be stripped of all logic, of his own confused and patchy memory of the event. But in the awkwardness of the public moment, words failed him, and she seemed to understand, gracing him with a nod.

Jim himself kept silent, just grateful that Uhura wasn't going to try to kill either of them. He let out a tense breath in a loud woosh, and Bones broke the silence with his characteristic ire. “Well don't just stand there lollygagging! Have a seat! There's room for all of us.” He slid down to make a space that she gratefully took, and the conversation resumed to more normal topics.

For his own part, Jim was reassured seeing his crew members before him. He'd been terrified when he'd made the decision to go into that room. Not because of any fear he had of Spock. That was something he'd been fully confident about his ability to handle. No, he was afraid for what this might do to the command team. As much as they were different people, they'd been to hell and back together, and he knew in his gut that they were the best. He had no desire to estrange them due to awkwardness created by this event, and had been worried that Uhura especially might desire a transfer. Now she was sitting at his table and actually _laughing_ at one of Bones' jokes, and he knew all was going to be fine.


End file.
